Something Else
by KRenee
Summary: Okay, so far he's successfully crashed a helicopter, gotten left behind and lost, and now he's making friends with the things he hates the most. What kind of crazy ass world do we live in now? All kinds of hints, no real pairings. Rated for language and bloodshed.
1. Something Else

**_Something Else_**

**…**

He saw out of the corner of his eyes that the other three in his little group had frozen at the sight of their newly infected pilot. It didn't take him long to make a decision as he reached for his magnum. At the sight of movement, the infected lunged forward with a snarl. Nick shot him in the chest three times, not lowering his pistol until the body had stilled.

"Nick!" Ellis cried in horror, apparently unfrozen at that point, "What the hell! You shot the _pilot_!"

"Ellis, he was…" Nick trailed off into silence as the helicopter began to tilt and swerve back and forth. Ellis was right; he had shot the _pilot_.

Key word; _PILOT._

Forgetting that he didn't actually know how to fly a helicopter, and reacting to Rochelle's startled cry, Nick darted into the cockpit, throwing himself into the seat and grabbing the steering. _Up is down, down is up._ That was just about all he knew about flying anything at all.

He pushed the steering down, trying to level out the copter before they hit the ground. The last thing he wanted was a 200 MPH nosedive to deal with. He knew that he was probably going to die eventually, but he had planned a battle out in his head for his last moments. He wasn't going to die in a stupid _helicopter_. They were dropping fast, and he had no idea how to accelerate to lift it back up. Nick turned to glance out and down so he could see what they were heading for, and he didn't like what he saw.

He could hear the others calling for him in a panic, and he shouted back to them, ignoring the fact that he seemed a lot calmer than he thought was normal, considering the fact that he was about to die in a helicopter crash.

"HANG ON!" He barked over the sound of the spinning blades. He could see a pair of trees that were growing out of each other in opposite directions below them. The last thing he wanted to do was pinch the copter between them, but it was looking like he wasn't going to be able to stop it from happening.

Ellis appeared behind him, his face stark white. He was talking loudly, trying to be heard, but Nick ignored him.

"Get in the back!" He shouted, cutting off the mechanic completely, "Get in the very back! All of you! Get back there and _stay back there_" He ordered. Ellis was gone in an instant, apparently having heard the instructions and had a plan to carry them out. He heard Rochelle scream as the aircraft was slammed around by the two trees, bouncing back and forth roughly between them. There were several loud bangs, almost like snaps, as the propellers broke in halves and flew across the way. Nick tried to steady his own body to keep himself for getting hurt, but when the helicopter suddenly jerked to an uneasy stop, rocking back and forth for a second as the trees shivered from the blows they had sustained; his head was smashed into the steering. The world spun out into darkness faster than the crash as he lost consciousness.

**…**

"Oh my God, oh my God…" Rochelle whimpered; trembling all over as Coach gingerly helped her up into a sitting position. He was crouching, apparently not trusting the wreckage of an aircraft enough to stand up. She was crying, the scare having been that bad. She gripped Coach's thick arms tightly, biting her lip gently as she struggled to hold herself up. Rochelle looked up at him, searching for comfort. He looked just as frightened as she did, though he seemed to be _okay_, compared to her. A man of faith he was indeed, probably having asked for mercy during the crash. And boy, had they gotten mercy. He looked her up and down at least three times, making sure that she wasn't badly hurt. Rochelle could see bruises and small cuts on his arms and face, a slight tear in the collar of his shirt.

She looked past him as a flash of yellow caught her eye. She spotted Ellis, on his feet and limping towards the crushed part of the helicopter. He tapped it with his knuckles, making a soft sound become louder as he knocked insistently harder. Coach turned around to stare at him nervously, seeing the expression on his face. He clearly remembered Ellis running back from the cockpit, extending his arms and grabbing Rochelle and Coach around the waist as he herded them all to the very farthest back corner of the helicopter. He had shouted that Nick had said to stay back there. He had run up to see if Nick was okay. He had been shouting the loudest for Nick to answer.

And now he was trying to see if Nick was alive.

Coach opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Rochelle's lips parted only slightly in horror.

_Oh my God_, it hit her hard as she realized what had happened. They were alive because Nick, uncaring, unkind, unhappy Nick, had saved them. He had run to the deathtrap of a cockpit and steered and jerked until they weren't nose-diving. He had ensured that the middle of the helicopter had been crushed. He had ensured that they hadn't gotten hurt by telling Ellis to put everyone in the very back corner. He had saved them.

And now he was… dead?

Ellis was mumbling something to himself, probably trying to reassure the others without thinking of actually talking to them. He smiled nervously, rubbing his index fingers and thumbs together as he paused in his knocking and tapping.

"N-Nick?" He croaked, being the first to speak anything legible, "Nick…" He spoke a bit louder as he repeatedly called for the conman while starting to knock again.

There was no answer.

Rochelle lowered her gaze; only to jerk it back up as Ellis started beating his hand on the metal, "NICK!" He barked, his voice becoming desperate. Coach stood up unsteadily, walking carefully over to Ellis' side and touching his shoulder. The mechanic turned to face him, eyes wide and frightened. Coach shook his head slowly, lowering his head slightly in sadness.

"N-no…" Ellis choked out, turning back to the wall between him and the conman, "NICK! Nick, wake up!" he knew that Nick wasn't dead. There was no way; he was too sturdy. The kind of guy who wouldn't just die suddenly; he would've gone down fighting. He would've been able to respond, telling Ellis that he wasn't going to make it much farther. He would've told them to leave him. He wouldn't have just _left_ without telling anyone. It wasn't his style. Not when he was stuck in an apocalypse. Not in a helicopter. Not like this.

"Ellis, honey," Rochelle mumbled softly, "I'm sorry…"

He shook his head insistently, "No," He replied almost angrily, "He's not… he wouldn't just… He might be hurt! He might've been knocked out or something! If we wait, he'll…"

"Ellis," Coach intervened, "Look around you." He paused for a moment and sighed, "It's not like we can rush him to a hospital. If Nick's hurt badly enough that he can't respond then he won't make it."

"I don't want to just leave him here!" Ellis choked out, leaning his head against the warm metal, "You know how he's lived! It would suck more than anything if the only people he trusts left him just because… I want to wait for him to wake up…"

"Ellis," Rochelle was by them at that point, having finally been able to get to her feet and join them by the crushed middle, "Even if he wakes up, if he's hurt enough to be unconscious, he can't climb down from here on his own." She explained gently, "It's not like we can carry him down…"

Ellis shook his head again, "That's… It doesn't matter. I'll wait here. You guys can go ahead. When he wakes up… I just want to be there to talk to him… I mean, what if he's fine and wakes up and we're gone?"

Coach sighed, "Ellis, you know that Nick would understand. He's a smart guy, and he can tell time. If he wakes up after we leave, he'll follow his senses and find a way to catch up."

"But…" Abruptly, there was a loud creak as the helicopter shifted its weight. Rochelle whimpered softly, grabbing a tight hold of the nearest object; Ellis' arm. The mechanic took her hand gingerly and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Ellis," Coach said quickly, "This thing is gonna go down any second if we stay in it. If Nick is alive and well, then our best bet would be to get out of here before our combined weight and movement makes it fall. If he's okay, he'll be able to get out."

The mechanic glanced at Rochelle; she looked like a frightened rabbit, lower lip trembling as she squeezed his hand tightly. He watched her for a moment, his heart sinking. Slowly, he nodded.

"Coach, you got first," He said quickly, "You're the heaviest, not offense. Rochelle you go second, so that if you slip you can be caught. I'll go last…" The older man nodded approvingly, patting Ellis on the shoulder.

"That's right," He said. He felt bad for partially tricking Ellis. He knew that Nick wasn't going to be okay. But Coach also knew that Nick would be furious if Ellis died because he didn't want to leave the conman. The sacrifice had been a show of courage and compassion, and should it be wasted, Nick's life would've been wasted as well.

Obeying Ellis' plan, Coach stepped towards the side of the copter, looking out at the surrounding branches and searching for a sturdy one, "Now, you young'ins watch where I go so you know where the sturdy branches are, alright?" Rochelle nodded and nervously stepped closer to the edge so she could peer over the side and watch the older man. Ellis followed her, keeping her hand in his to comfort her.

Rochelle didn't let go of the mechanic until she was well out of the copter, slowly making her way down. She was lucky to be wearing a decent pair of boots, as they gripped the branches tightly and prevented her from slipping, even where there was gasoline that had dripped from the crushed tank. Ellis gave the crushed part of the copter one last forlorn look before taking a quick look around. He gave the 'give me a minute' hand signal to the other two, who were looking up at him expectantly. He found the back corner were they had dropped their sleeping bag when they'd first gotten into the helicopter and picked them up, shaking them to get the glass out and off the cloth. They were unhappy looking sleeping bags, but they would do just fine. Since they'd known they were going to be rescued at the concert, they had decided to bring their sleeping gear with them. There guns, he discovered, were gone probably having slid out of the copter. It made sense; they had been carrying the weapons, and had instinctively let go of them in the haste to grab something sturdy to hold onto while they screamed in terror.

He returned to the exit of the helicopter, trying to ignore it as the wind suddenly picked up and the trees shivered, making the helicopter creak.

Not wanting to be caught in the midst of a high powered wind in an unsteady helicopter, Ellis tossed the sleeping bags down and started down the tree. He reached the ground, hopping off the lowest branch and landing hard. Coach nodded approvingly at him, giving him one last check before speaking.

"Let's go find a place to camp?" Ellis and Rochelle nodded agreeably, following his lead as they worked there way through the forest.

**...**

His head was pounding so bad it hurt to breathe. Slowly, Nick lifted his head but didn't dare open his eyes. Flashing lights were already bright behind his eyelids, and he didn't want bright sunlight to make the pain any worse. He could feel warmth on one side of his face, and he reached up a hand and touched it. It was easy to recognize the feeling of blood on his fingers.

Nick slowly began to painful process of opening his eyes. Everything that his vision had to take in made his head pound even worse. To his surprise, the sun wasn't blinding him at all. In fact, it looked like it was pretty late at night. Slightly confused, he waited for a long couple of minutes as his eyes sluggishly adjusted to the darkest night he'd ever seen. The sun had been almost fully set when the helicopter had crashed, so why was it so dark now? Had he been out for that long?

_The others…_ his mind began to recall the happenings of the crash, and he took a deep breath to steady his racing heart. He had to make the call or he'd never be okay with himself.

"Guys…?" He called, but there was no answer. His voice echoed off the darkness, and he blinked blankly at the lack of replies. They had to be okay. There was no way he had killed all three of them and survived on his own. No, he couldn't do that. He couldn't live on his own in this kind of world, and he didn't want to be responsible for having murdered three people; especially not the ones who had welcomed him tentatively into their broken lives. It wasn't fair for him to be the only survivor, especially considering the terrible things he'd done to people. It wasn't fair for young Ellis, who had so much life ahead of him, and Rochelle, as beautiful as she was, and Coach, who was so wise, to die before he did. He was the sinner, not them.

"Rochelle?" He called a little louder, "Ellis?" He punched the dashboard in front of him, wincing at the sensation that spiked his headache, "Answer me, damnit!"

It suddenly occurred to him that, considering that he could see the moon and the sun was long gone, it was entirely possible that they were alive and had thought he was dead.

He let out a soft sigh of relief; that had to be it. They had thought he was dead. Not exactly a warm feeling that it gave him, but it meant that they were okay. Even if it turned out to not be true, he had to believe it for now. He inched around in his seat, wincing at the pain in his head as he tried to maneuver himself around. The cockpit had been half crushed, everything behind him completely pinched together. He was _trapped_.

He let out a soft series of curses, wishing that he was the Hulk for a brief moment. Then again, if he were the Hulk, he wouldn't have been able to fit in the helicopter in the first place and would've been mistaken for a Tank and left behind. That wouldn't have been good.

Nevertheless, he didn't give up. Nick squirmed and wriggled his right leg, the one that was actually stuck. After several minutes of swearing and struggling, Nick managed to free himself. He lifted his hands around himself blindly, searching for something that resembled a door. He found a handle and turned it, feeling something come loose as the sensation of cool, wet air reached him. He let out a sigh of relief, managing to at least partially get up as he pulled his gun out of its holster. He used the flashlight to see how high up he was. It was a long ways down, he discovered with a depressed sigh. He didn't know if he was going to be able to climb down that far without falling or fainting. His heard and heart weren't working well together, the pumping blood from his hammering heart only making his head pound harder.

At any rate, it wasn't like he could stay in the helicopter forever. He started on his way down, using one hand to hold his gun while he used to other to guide himself down. It took forever, and the ground didn't seem to get any closer until he was stepping on it. He knee was burning, probably bruised pretty badly from the crash. He wouldn't be surprised if he had also broken his skull into four parts.

Nick paused and looked around himself; it was close to pitch black. He directed the light around the area, searching for signs of death that would point him towards Rochelle, Ellis, and Coach.

He took a step forward and paused as a low growl reached his ears. He froze, holding his breath and taking slow steps backwards until he was against the tree that he had just climbed out of. Nick's mind worked overtime as he thought hard about his situation. It was dark, the moon covered completely by the thick forestry. It was dark. He only had one flashlight to guide him. He was alone, with only one weapon, and he had hit his head.

It wasn't exactly what he would call safe to be traveling alone in the dark in his condition. He slid down the tree, sitting down on the ground and turning off his flashlight. He hoped that he would look dead enough in his sleep for the infected to ignore him.

It took only seconds before the buzzing on the night sent him into a fitful sleep.


	2. Dal

**_II_**

** ...**

He hadn't been expecting to be able to catch up to the other, especially considering that he had taken quite a while to get up, but Nick was still disappointed when he found the small cabin empty. The other's had definitely camped out in it, he recognized the signs. The familiar sleeping bags they'd brought with them on the helicopter were left piled in a corner for any other survivors that needed a place to stay, and there was an axe and a pile of ammo left for him.

_Awww,_ he thought bitterly_, how sweet_. Nick was patient; he had to be in order to be a gambler. He couldn't get excited over anything and he definitely had to wait for most of his life. He glanced around the safe room, looking hopefully for anything else that could assist him on the journey he was going to have to make from that point on - alone. In his search, he spotted a message that looked familiar. He stepped towards it, using one hand to shield the message so that he could read it without the glare of the morning sunlight.

**_Nick_**

**_Sorry for leaving you. We're all OK. I know your gonna be fine, so if you happen to stop in here and read this, we're still heading to New Orlins. Good luck._**

Underneath the message, the three survivors had signed their names. Ellis' spelling error was somehow unsurprising to Nick considering how he and Coach tended to pronounce the word.

Good luck. That was funny. But he was still glad to know that they were okay.

He heard a clinking sound, like something metal being set on the wooden floor, and turned around. However, no one was there and a sinking feeling pit itself into his stomach. He really was alone. A gleam caught his eye and he lowered his gaze, eyes widening in surprise; a submachine gun lay helplessly on the doorway, begging him to pick it up. He made a wide berth around the doorway, peering outside expectantly. His sudden desire for company only reinforced the truth; he was _alone_.

He wanted to punch himself for being so reliant on the others. He had known for a fact that they weren't going to stick with him forever, especially considering his pessimistic attitude and bullying tendencies. He wasn't a nice person, so why would he ever allow himself to get used to having friends?

_Friends_, he thought venomously, _funny, Nick. Very funny._

He kept his gaze on the outdoors as he stooped to pick up his brand new best friend, AKA, the pathetic submachine gun that he was going to have to work with at least for the time being. He hoped that the rest of his team would be thoughtful enough to leave an assault rifle of some sort out in the open for him to find. It wasn't like he knew where he was going.

Then again, he was sure that others didn't know either. Nick was following the bodies, hoping they didn't lead him in the wrong direction. The magical gun fairy was making him nervous, though. Nick took a few minutes to look around him out the door before creeping into the open. Right away he spotted an adrenaline shot lying on the ground a few feet away, and he slinked over to it and picked it up. Definitely unused, definitely unsanitary, but then again it wasn't like anyone cared about Nick's opinion of being clean on a regular basis.

There was an unhappy looking medical supply bag lying on the ground a few more feet ahead. Upon inspection, he discovered that there wasn't very much in it, but it was more than what he had. Nick stuck the shot into the small bag and attached it to his belt. It was much smaller than the packs he was used to, but it was also a decent size for him to be able to attach to his hip for easier access.

There was a loud screech that caught Nick's attention, and he looked up quickly, expecting to see a Hunter. Instead, he whipped out his magnum and started firing at the small group of common infected running towards him. They fell to the ground quickly and didn't get back up. Nick turned full circle, still holding his pistol and looking for the Hunter he _knew_ he had just heard.

_I guess I'm losing it after all_, he thought irritably as he continued forward. Nick knew that he needed to pick up the pace now or never, because he wasn't ever going to catch up with Rochelle, Ellis and Coach if he stood around searching blindly for special infected.

**…**

Once again, Nick was disappointed as he walked into the safe room. The other's weren't there, but Ellis had left him another signing of names to tell him that they had been there and that he was going the right way. He had picked up an M-16; not his favorite, but it would have to work for the time being. Nick restocked himself with a fuller health pack, taking out antibiotics, gauze, and medical tape and stuffing it into his smaller version of the same bag. It was easier to carry in his opinion, and it was working for him just fine. He left the rest of the medical supplies in the bag and picked up more ammo. He was going through it surprisingly fast lately, which led him to believe that the others were doing a better job sneaking around than he was. Or maybe he was losing his gambling spirit.

Luckily for him, he hadn't encountered anything 'big' yet. He'd come across the fried corpse of a Tank around midday, which had turned him in the right direction. He was also happy to find that there weren't any Witches hanging around and the sound of crying had yet to reach him.

A soft whimper and the sound of something scratching at the door caught his attention. Eyes narrowing, Nick picked up his M-16 and crept over to the safe room door. There was a rustle of fabric and a light thump that resonated in his ears rather loudly.

"Dal…"

He held his breath as he slunk over to the door, peering through the bars from a distance. The sun was still setting, so it cast a small bit of light into the door. He spotted the head of a Hunter and his eyes narrowed. It was facing away from the door, its head darting back and forth as the sounds of the approaching night reached its ears. Was the little bastard waiting for him?

Nick smirked slightly, tugging his magnum off his belt as the Hunter began to stand up, growling lowly. He took aim and fired, his fingers pulling back the trigger as it jumped. A pained shriek echoed in the night, and he cursed his poor aim as he walked over to the door and stared through the bars. There were a couple of drops of blood on the muddy grass in front of the safe room. He hoped the stupid thing died slowly.

He pulled the bar off the door and exited the makeshift safe room on the opposite side that he had entered. He needed to keep moving or he'd never catch up. It was chilly outside, and the muddy waters were not helping at all. He shivered but didn't slow down as he sloshed his way through the waters.

"This is disgusting," He grumbled irritably, half-expecting Ellis to laugh at him. Then he remembered that he was alone, with on his M-16 to keep him company. He slowed down, and suddenly stopped moving. Something was behind him, only moving when he did. He briefly wondered if it was enjoying the water as much as he was. Nick decided to ignore it for the time being and continued forward, hearing the echo of water sloshing behind him. It was distracting, but easy to ignore.

Nick tried to be as quiet as possible, but it wasn't easy in the water and it wasn't easy when he was trying to move as least somewhat quickly. Behind him, he could sometimes hear the sounds of a choking infected, or a cry of pain as someone was killed. Now he was getting really nervous.

It was dark out as he continued through the murky water. He'd only encountered a single horde, and though it had been a small one, he was not feeling his best. His knee was burning as he trudged on, and the fresh bruises from the horde were making his bones creak and his muscles ache. Nick suddenly felt extremely old.

His head was the worst, though; he'd managed to avoid getting punched in the face, but the sudden rush of adrenaline had given him a pounding headache, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. More than once he almost hadn't noticed when one of the mud-coated infected had come crawling up to him like the Grudge. Everything felt oddly surreal.

He spotted a wide clearing in the water, stepping into it cautiously. There were a great many infected milling around, but not many trees to distract his light to keep them from noticing him. Naturally, he turned the light off to avoid being caught.

_Just like the good old days, _he thought with a grimace, _right, Nick?_

There was a smashed-in-half plane obstructing his otherwise clear path. He was going to have no choice but to cross through it.

And cross through it he did, climbing haphazardly onto the flight deck and walking up the ruined plane. The hatch was gone, and he almost missed the three signatures beside the blasted open door. A slight smile reached his mood; they were dedicated, at any rate. There was another pile of ammo beside the door, and for a good reason because the horde from earlier had taken a lot of it from him. Curse his terrible aim. If Ellis were with him, he'd have no problem because the kid was an incredible shot, despite his claims of never having used a gun before.

He poked his head out of the hatch and started down the plane's wing, keeping his eyes peeled for anything, especially a Tank. They liked to hang around areas that were clear of trees and other obstacles, so caution was a best friend at these kinds of times.

He listened carefully for any telltale snorts or grunts that would tell him how close he was to being crushed, but even after standing perfectly still for several long minutes, he heard nothing. Nick continued forward, keeping his light off just to be sure. He didn't know how good the eyesight of a Tank was, and he didn't want to risk anything at that point.

He didn't hear the soft sloshing of the infected, too concentrated on listening for a Tank that he was shutting everything out, including a raspy cough that turned into an irritated snarl. The next thing he knew, Nick was off the wing and into the water, unable to get himself up properly to avoid inhaling non-breathable hydrogen. He was dragged through the water, holding his breath as best he could while struggling against the Smoker's grasp. He could just barely hear the water splashing as more infected got the hint and decided that it would be fun to help the Smoker kill his newest survivor. Not even fair, considering Nick's situation.

_This is not the battle that I planned_, he thought hazily as his vision began to dot with black spots. The grasp around his torso tightened tenfold, and the mixture of oxygen and carbon dioxide that he had been holding in left him in the form of several large bubbles. The sound of water against his head turned into a painful, thudding headache that got worse with every second. His body forced him to inhale, taking in too much water for his constricting airways. This was definitely it.

He was hauled out of the water abruptly, the person behind him carefully dragging him out of the swamp water and onto solid ground. He wrenched himself free as soon as he was fully conscious; stumbling over to a tree as he heaved up the water that he had inhaled. The dots in his vision weren't going away fast enough for his liking as he rubbing his tired eyes with his free hand. The other was busy holding him upright.

Once Nick felt sturdy enough on his feet to stop leaning against the tree, he turned around eyes searching for the person who had just saved his life. They at least deserved a word of thanks.

His eyes met with the half-covered face of a soaking wet Hunter. There was pinkish, watery looking blood coating his hands, suggesting that he had been forced to do a bit of fighting to free Nick. It was impossible to tell the color of his clothes, as it was so dark, but the one thing Nick could see were the two rolls of duct tape that he was wearing around his wrists.

His first instinct was to reach for his gun, which he quickly discovered was absent from the picture. The Hunter noticed his movement and reached into his front pocket, pulling out the magnum. It was wet, but not nearly as wet as the actual beast in front of him. The Hunter sat on his haunches, elbows on his knees as he held out the gun to Nick, waiting expectantly for him to take it.

"You're a smart one, aren't you?" Nick snapped icily, "If you really think I'm going to get close enough to a _Hunter_ just so that I can get my gun back…" The Hunter didn't move, and Nick briefly considered the idea that it had turned to stone. Then he saw that it was bleeding. Blood dripped from the Hunter's left arm, the one holding out the gun.

Nick clearly remembered shooting him at that point. Why would it go through the trouble of protecting him from a Smoker and several common infected when he had shot it? He was a gambling man, and it would be so completely unlike him to not take the risk. He took a slow step forward, and the Hunter did nothing more than marginally shift his weight. He reached out and took his gun back, reloading it quickly with the ammo in his coat pocket.

"Dal…?" The Hunter suddenly croaked. Nick turned his attention back to the small figure in the dark, giving him the coldest shoulder ever known to what was left of man.

"What the hell is 'Dal'?" He snapped, "Or is that all you can say?"

The Hunter looked hurt at those words. He lowered his head and picked at the grass in front of him. Nick shook his head in disbelief and walked past the little beast. He wasn't going to waste anymore time. He had lost his M-16, so he now only had a magnum. He climbed back up the plane wing and returned to the ammo pile, picking up the last of it that he hadn't been able to fit into his pockets earlier. When he turned around, the Hunter was sitting in the doorway, staring at him like he was the most interesting thing there ever was.

"What do you want?" He was disgruntled with the idea of being saved by an infected. The Hunter stared at him for a second longer before looking out at the field that they had just returned from.

Nick walked back the Hunter again and continued the way he had been going, not bothering to turn his flashlight on as he made his way back down the plane wing. He could hear the Hunter following him; it wasn't trying to hide from him anymore, from what he could tell. The conman turned around as soon as he hit solid ground again and spoke in a commanding voice, "Don't. Follow. Me."

The Hunter stared at him blankly, a sad expression coming over his face as he let out a slight growl of distaste. Nick glowered at him for a moment before turning around and continuing on his way. The Hunter growled lowly behind him, but he ignored it. It wasn't going to attack him, or else it would've already.

A startled shriek reached his ears, and he whirled around in surprise. By that point, the sun was just barely beginning to light up the sky. The swamp looked worse with a little bit of light to point out all the imperfections. The Hunter was gone, and his eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and apprehension.

"Hey…!" He called uncertainly, looking around himself nervously. He hadn't meant to get it in trouble, just for it to leave him alone. He heard a splash and a second shriek, and turned to his right. He spotted them; the same Smoker from earlier, and from the looks of it, he was in the process of drowning the Hunter. Cursing angrily, Nick ran over, pausing in his steps and firing repeatedly at the Smoker. It looked up at him, and Nick could see that he was holding his foot on the Hunter to keep him from resurfacing. That meant that he didn't exactly need to be holding him with his tongue.

His eyes narrowed at he took aim and fired four times. The first two missed, but the second pair hit their mark, one in the Smoker's throat and the other in his misshapen head. Without waiting another second, Nick hurried over when he saw the Hunter wasn't getting back out of the water. He dug his hands under the water and found the fabric that reminded him heavily of the hoodies he used to wear when he was younger. He pulled hard, almost falling as he pulled the infected up.

The Hunter came back quickly, gasping and sputtering as he let out several miserable cries. The conman stood up, letting out an agitated sigh.

"You can't take care of yourself at all." He grumbled the invitation clearly to his new partner. The Hunter stared up at him, an awkward smile stretching across his face. He was missing two molars, and several of the other teeth were chipped. Nick had never thought about the fact that human teeth weren't made to tear flesh like a tiger, so it had never crossed his mind that Hunter's could potentially tear out their teeth when they went in for the kill.

He started walking, and the Hunter followed. They had a ways to go before he caught up with the others. If he didn't stop to rest at the next safe house, then he might be able to catch them before they left the swampy area and left him behind for good.

"What's your name, anyway?" He asked bluntly, glancing down at the Hunter. It looked up at him, smiling slightly.

"Dal," He replied. Nick blinked, wondering what it was short for. He imaged that it probably couldn't get out the full name, or couldn't remember. Nick nodded calmly as they returned to the swamp water.

* * *

_**Useless info for this chapter:**_

** Dal is short for Dallas.  
**


	3. Caught Up

**_III_**

...

The little bridge was the most rickety looking thing that Nick had ever seen. It went well with the shanty town that made him think of cannibalism. Dal was right beside him, looking around carefully and sniffing the air. The conman was looking around himself as well, and he spotted another set of signatures. He wanted to laugh in spite of himself, wondering how many times they were going to sign their names for him before they gave up and decided he was dead.

Then again, it was probably Ellis who was making them sign their names everywhere, so he could assume that they wouldn't stop until they were out of the States altogether. At least he could be assured that he was probably not going to get lost. He took a step forward, placing one foot on the rickety bridge and easing his weight onto it. It whined gently, but didn't give in to his weight, so he started across it, moving swiftly but cautiously. Dal waited until he was all the way across before following after him.

There was an incredibly scarce amount of infected around the grouping of flooded houses and it was making Nick nervous. Dal was being incredibly quiet, his eyes searching the area more thoroughly than usual. In the messily built wooden shack across the little bridge was when Nick heard it. He froze, eyes wide as he looked around himself quickly; he needed to hide, but there was no where to go without being seen. Dal had heard the sound of the thumping Tank as well, and he grabbed Nick's wrist and tugged him over to the corner of the room with the most shadows. They leaned up against the wall and sat down side by side. The ground was trembling with fear as the Tank barreled into the room, his massive muscles dripping with swamp water as they shivered involuntarily.

Nick's eyes were wide, his heart racing as he held his breath. The Tank turned his tiny head back and forth, his tongue flopping around with the movement. It turned to face them, beady black eyes narrowing questioningly as it snorted gruffly. Dal's eyes were closed, his face relaxed as it could be. Taking the hint, Nick did the same, easing his eyes shut and relaxing his expression as much as possible. He stiffened slightly as the Tank lumbered towards them, leaning close to Nick's face and breathing the most incredibly rotten breath imaginable into the conman's face. He had to hold back the urge to whimper when one of the massive fingers prodded at his stomach, seeing if he was still alive.

When Nick made no noticeable response, the Tank pulled away from him. Apparently, the hunkering idiot couldn't tell the difference between a room that could just barely hold his weight and a tiny little bridge that could barely hold itself up. He attempted to cross the rickety thing and it collapsed underneath him. Nick's eyes flew open in unison with Dal's as they heard the Tank let out a furious roar. Before he decided to down the entire building, they clambered to their feet and tore out of the building, running across the roofs of flooded houses. The Tank apparently didn't notice them leaving as he went about destroying the structure that they had just left.

They continued on, moving a bit faster to avoid being seen by the Tank, and didn't slow down until the sounds of his anger were long gone.

The sun was fully risen and making its way to the afternoon point in the sky by the time they had reached the next safe house. Nick opened the door and Dal followed him inside. There was an assault rifle waiting for him on the table; a Scar, nonetheless. His eyes lit up at the sight up of it. He picked it up, restocked his ammo and glanced around the room. As he had thought, there was a trio of signatures by the door on the opposite side that he had come in. He hadn't slept at all during the night, so he knew that he had to have caught up at least a bit. Then again, he didn't know if the others had traveled throughout the night as well. His heart was sinking fast as the idea of being permanently left behind cross his mind, but he pushed those thoughts away. Nick looked at Dal, forcing an apprehensive smile.

The Hunter simply stared at him, somehow comforting with only a gaze. Nick nodded at him and they left the safe room. The bodies around the area looked relatively fresh compared to the ones he had seen before. A spark of hope ignited within and he started off, moving quickly. He could hear gunfire, but it sounded incredibly far away, nothing more than a soft crack in the air. But he was close, and that was what mattered. Nick started walking faster until he was at a slight jog, Dal right beside him.

"Dal," Nick spoke up, glancing at the Hunter to make sure he had full attention, "Listen carefully."

Dal stared at him expectantly, and Nick continued, "When we find the others, there's probably going to be a large horde, judging by the amount of gunfire we can hear… When you see that horde, I want you walking on two feet, not four. And I don't want you pouncing or jumping, because they'll shoot at you and think you're trying to kill me. And _stay close_."

Dal nodded, deciding that he wanted to practice walking normally. He pushed off with his hands and straightened out. Nick heard his back crack and pop as he straightened it out. The Hunter didn't seem to like walking upright, judging from the discomfort in his expression. Nevertheless, they continued on.

They were slowed down only marginally by the slight amount of infected in the area. Nick took a moment to teach Dal how to work a magnum so that he wouldn't have to use his claws to defend himself. The Hunter, once again, wasn't very good at acting like he wasn't infected, but he adapted quickly, which lessened Nick's reluctance to attempt to bring him along on their trip.

As they continued along, the sounds of battle became louder and louder. Nick found himself staring at probably the biggest house he'd ever seen, and judging from the amount of noise that seemed to be coming from behind it, he could safely assume that the others were behind it. He took one last look at Dal before they started running towards the house. Nick reached into his miniature medical pack and pulled out the adrenaline shot that he'd been saving. As they arrived on the front balcony, he looked out and around; the others were standing in front of a gate, and seconds after he had exited the building, the gate itself exploded. They were moving away at that point, and thinking fast Nick jabbed himself with the needle and started running.

He knew that Dal would be able to keep up; Hunter's were naturally the fastest of any infected he'd ever seen, hence why they scared the hell out of him. There was a Tank climbing over the walls and running towards the others. Nick could barely hear himself yelling at the top of his lungs when the adrenaline suddenly kicked in.

"ELLIS!" He roared, "ELLIS!" The mechanic was slowing down, turning as he fired at the oncoming infected. He spotted the conman, and a grin spread across his face.

"NICK!" Nick barely heard him, turning to see a Tank coming straight for him. Cursing, he pulled the bile bomb that he had picked up in the mansion and threw it. The lumbering idiot ran right into the puke, and he was swarmed by infected seconds after. He spotted a Smoker out of the corner of his eye and signaled for Ellis to keep going. The hillbilly ignored him, firing at everything in sight.

"ELLIS, GET ON THE BOAT!" Nick commanded, cursing as the vessel started to move. Ellis was grabbed by Coach and dragged onto the boat, despite his fighting and arguing. The conman was starting to slow down as he passed the gate, and the boat wasn't waiting for him. Ellis was shouting for him to hurry, and Rochelle and Coach were doing something akin to shouting at the captain to wait a few more minutes.

"I'm not gonna make it… I'm not gonna make it…" He gasped. He suddenly heard Dal behind him, shrieking something illegible. The next thing Nick knew, he was in the air and flying. He grabbed the front of Dal's hoodie and shut his eyes as his head began to swim.

They landed hard, and Dal nearly dropped Nick in the process of steadying himself. Nick tumbled out of him arms, eyes wide and breathless.

The boat was deadly silent; tension floating into the air at Nick stared hard at Dal once he'd regained his stature. He stood up, looking down at the crouching Hunter with a condescending look on his face.

"We talked about this." He said, "You promised." The Hunter whimpered apologetically. Nick rolled his eyes and turned to the others as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he been holding.

"Did you miss me?" He was unable to defend himself as Rochelle and Ellis simultaneously jumped on him, hugging him tightly and talking about how worried they had been.

"Did you see all the signatures?" Ellis asked excitedly. Nick scoffed.

"How do you think I didn't get lost? And you spelled New Orleans wrong."

"That's what I told him, but he wouldn't listen!" Rochelle said in exasperation, pulling away from Nick so that she could give him a check up. She noticed that he was favoring his right leg, standing heavily on his left as if he'd hurt one of them.

"What'd you do to your leg?" Nick turned to her, blinking for a moment as he recalled what had happened.

"It got wedged under the dashboard when I flew the copter into the trees." He replied simply, "It got banged up, but I can walk fine." _Except when I'm being drowned._

Coach finally spoke up, "Nick," He said, "If you don't mind me asking… who's the… Hunter?" Ellis and Rochelle had apparently completely forgotten about the Hunter that had brought Nick aboard the vessel. Nick's eyes fell on Dal for a long, tiresome moment.

"Dal," He replied, "He's Dal. He can't take care of himself because he's not threatening enough. Kinda like Ellis."

Ellis opened his mouth to protest the comparison, but Rochelle cut him off. "So… we have a Hunter onboard now?"

Nick shrugged, "It'd be rude to shove him off the boat." The Hunter whimpered at the idea. Rochelle squealed softly at the adorable sound. Coach nodded and shrugged.

"Well, if he ain't doing us no harm, then I guess it would be okay to bring him along." Coach's stamp of approval was the law of their group. The older man was wise and knew the way the world worked better than any of them. If he approved or disapproved, then ideas would be used or cast away at his word.

Nick would've denied it for hours, but he was glad to have made it back to the group. He glanced at Dal and smiled slightly, walking over to the Hunter and sitting down. He was suddenly extremely tired, the events of the day coupled with the night he had spent traveled finally catching up to him.

He leaned back, stretching out his tired legs as he rested most of his weight on his elbows. A long day indeed, and he was glad to not have to be walking anymore. He had to admit, he did kind of miss Jimmy Gibbs Jr. Dal yawned widely, getting down on the floor of the boat and curling up beside Nick. He started purring, the expression of affection making Nick raise his eyebrows.

"Awww," Rochelle squealed, "He's cute!"

"This is what I meant when I said he's not threatening enough."


	4. Don't Go There

**_IV_**

...

_"Guys…?" Nick managed to call, his voice cracking from dryness. He twisted around in his seat, trying to see through the darkness of the night. The ground was soft and muddy beneath his feet as he slowly clambered out of the wreckage of the helicopter. Where were they? He found his flashlight and turned it on, his light grazing every inch of grass and trees around him, trying to locate the other survivors._

_They weren't anywhere. Nick started walking through the forest, his eyes peeled for any signs of life at all, but he didn't even spot a lone infected. They were gone._

_Panic set in as he began to move faster, breaking into a run and calling for the others, "Rochelle! Rochelle!" What if she was hurt? Ellis and Coach were like bulls, they could take care of themselves. He worried when Ellis bumped his knees and shoulders a little too hard, and considering Coach's age he was always a little concerned when the older man ran out of breath._

_But Rochelle was different. She was a girl. She was fragile. And she was important for them to be able to stay together. He knew it was a fact; the only reason they truly remained together was because of an everlasting feeling that they had to protect Rochelle._

_Ellis and Coach could handle themselves. Where the hell was Rochelle?_

_His palms were sweaty as he slowed down to the sound of ragged breathing, and a whimper that sounded like a sob. The voice was easy to recognize._

_"Rochelle…?" He sounded as desperate as he was. The sound of muttering reached his ears; it sounded like Ellis, maybe Coach. The difference in their voices was sometimes hard to hear when they were mumbling._

_"Hey…!" He called a little louder, "Ellis? Coach? Rochelle?" They weren't responding, and Nick was desperate to see that they were okay. He eased forward, pushing the bushes and tree branches out of the way._

_"Guys…?" His eyes widened as he trailed off into silence. She was sitting there indeed, right leg ripped off at the knee, the white bone showing through like pearls on satin. Ellis was behind her, his body torn up, bones likely broken as he cradled her, rocking back and forth. Coach stood over them, his left arm torn off completely and drenching half his body in blood, spoke from memory a passage from the bible._

_His heart was suddenly in his throat, hammering violently as Ellis' bright red eyes fell on him, angry and unforgiving. Nick had hurt Rochelle. He was the reason that she was crying, the reason that she was like that._

_"Ellis," He croaked, "I- I didn't…"_

_"Idiot…" The younger man breathed, "Get out of here."_

_"Nick!" Ellis roared over the sound of smashing metal and crunching trees, "Nick…!"_

_"Get in the back!" Nick barked, his mind reeling, "G-…" He trailed off as time went into fast-forward. They were going down too fast; Ellis-!_

_The sound of a squelching body being crushed to nothing behind him rang in his ears for what seemed like forever as he froze in place. He could feel the warmth of Ellis' blood on his back, the scent of a suddenly decaying body was making him sick. He shut his eyes, knowing that it was a dream, knowing that the crash had already happened, knowing that Ellis was right by him, knowing that they had all been reunited, knowing that everything was fine._

_"C'mon, Nick, just open your eyes…"_

He winced when someone touched his shoulder and forcefully roused him, his eyes opening so fast that his head began to pound. He had curled into such a tight ball that both his knees were now aching. He stared straight ahead, unmoving, unable to get the image of the three friends that he had murdered out of his head.

_No,_ he forced himself to think, _they're not dead._

_But they **are**._

Painstakingly slowly, he rolled onto his back to face whoever had shaken him awake. The hours were working their way into a very early morning. The others were barely awake, but Rochelle was making her way over to him with a concerned look in her eyes. Dal was right beside him, his eyes shadowed and his mouth slightly open as he stared at Nick silently.

Dal had awakened him, probably sensing that something was wrong. Rochelle knelt beside him as he started to sit up, his stomach making uneasy gestures towards a god-awful experience that he fully expected to come at any given moment.

"You okay?" He didn't look her in the eye - he couldn't. It was impossible. He gazed at his lap silently, feeling his nausea beginning to subside ever so slightly.

"Nick…?" He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white and his nails were digging into his palms almost painfully. Dal made a soft, nervous-sounding noise. Rochelle reached out, touched him. He could see the blood on her hands, and he could see out of the corner of his eyes the blood that was pooling around them. She didn't tighten her grip, but it felt like she did. He could feel bruises forming on his arm. He could hear her whimpering, crying. He could hear Coach reading them a hymn, and he could see Ellis' hand on Rochelle's shoulders, trying to comfort her sadness as she continued to whine for Nick to save them.

_Save them._ He didn't save anyone. He nearly got them all _killed_.

He practically shoved Rochelle away, stumbling to his feet and then promptly falling to his knees by the edge of the boat as he heaved into the surrounding water. His eyes began to water as his head pounded, his skin becoming cold and clammy in a matter of seconds.

He felt Rochelle touch him, and he winced slightly, clenching his fists and trying to keep the rest of it down. He didn't succeed, coughing up even more and then proceeding to dry heave for a few minutes. Rochelle rubbed his back comfortingly, taking one of his hands and stroking it with her thumb. Afterimages were the worst part of dreaming.

He could feel Ellis and Coach's eyes on his back, and some part of him knew that Dal was probably nearby as well, likely with a helpless look on his face.

Rochelle was too close; he didn't like the contact. He could feel himself yearning for it, but he himself didn't like it. He managed to stop gagging and shook his head as chills ran up his spine, gently pushing her away.

"I-I'm fine…" He leaned his forehead against the edge of the boat, keep his teeth tightly clamped together as his nausea began to fade, hopefully for good this time. The boat was dead silent, and he didn't like it; the same kind of quiet that had nearly sent him into hysteria during his dream.

_Actually_, he thought with an air of sarcasm, _it was a nightmare._

"Nick," Coach was walking over, his voice coaxing him out of the newly formed shell with an air of security and comfort, "Are you alright?" The conman sat there momentarily, slowly lifting his head off the painted wood. Was he alright? In a physical manner, yes, he was fine. He wasn't altogether sure about his mental health.

After weighing the options between which "alright" Coach was talking about, Nick ended up shrugging his shoulders rather half-heartedly. His stomach was still flipping about in his gut, and his mouth tasted like acid.

Rochelle leaned to the side, wanting to see his face to see if he was even still with them or not, "If you need something… anything, just ask."

He wasn't used to being waited on, and he didn't like it. He didn't reply to the others at all, glancing at Dal silently. The Hunter opened his mouth slightly, as if he wanted to clarify Nick's silent words. He closed his mouth again without issuing anything remotely similar to a sound.

"Nick," He almost flinched at the sound of Ellis' voice. He was practically mumbling, watching Nick from halfway across the ship, "Were you… havin' a nightmare?"

That was when he noticed how tired Ellis looked. Like he hadn't gotten much sleep. The other's looked plenty well rested, but Ellis looked like he was trying to keep from nodding off.

"Did you not get any sleep last night?" The conman retorted, his voice going cold in an instant. He didn't mean to snap; he had been hoping that no one was going to learn about the nightmare, but Ellis had gone ahead and ruined that easily.

Ellis lowered his gaze slightly, "I… was thinking."

Rochelle looked worried about the mechanic at that point, her attention being draw away from Nick almost too easily, "What's wrong?"

"Well… I was just thinking… Ya' know? It don't matter. It's nothing."

He had never seen the young man look so awkward, and a sensation of guilt washed over him, bringing back another wave of uneasy nausea. He clenched his fist tightly; Ellis probably didn't want to say whatever the problem was in front of Nick. It probably had something to do with the helicopter crash.

It was probably his fault.

Nick had never felt guilty about anything in his entire life. Not since he was a boy who assumed that everything was his fault because his father thought it easier to blame him, and his mother was too drunk to care.

He felt even sicker than he had when he had been initially throwing up, but this time it wasn't going away, and it wasn't coming up. He swallowed hard, lowering his gaze to the floor in front of him and shivering as a slightly cold breeze washed over him.

_If I hadn't…_

**Don't. Go. There.**


	5. Its Raining

**_V_**

…

They were only blessed with two nights of proper, uninterrupted sleep that no one had to be awake for. The vessel drifted down the Mississippi for what seemed like it would be the last stretch of their trip. But of course, all good things have a catch.

Nick grabbed Dal's hoodie and practically ripped the hood off, nearly blinding the poor infected. He'd already had his face dipped into the water to get rid of the blood stains on his face, and he hadn't enjoyed it at all. Nick was trying to make him look less like the other Hunters so that they wouldn't accidentally shoot him all the time.

The boat wasn't moving at all fast, and the soft whirring sound that had been constant was dying down. Nick had heard Virgil's footsteps and taken off Dal's hood to prevent a complete freak-out. Virgil hadn't seen either of them come onboard, but he had probably heard Nick's voice.

"Alrighty, ya'll," He greeted, his usual enthusiasm only marginally dimmed by the seemingly dying boat, "It seems we've run all the gas." He was an older man, probably around his mid-to-late forties, unless he was the type to look younger than he was. In which case, he was probably more like mid-to-late sixties.

The silence that fell over the group was awful. Coach spoke slowly, uncertain of where Virgil was going with this talk of gas, "Is there a way for us to keep going?"

Virgil shook his head, "I shut 'er off, but I'll be needin' ya'll to get some gas for m'girl here."

Coach and Rochelle sighed in unison, Nick deciding it'd be best to keep his snide comments to himself. He wasn't even really in the mood to be snapping at anyone anyway. He already felt like a different person.

"So, what's the plan?" Ellis spoke up curiously, "I mean, is there anywhere we can get the gas?"

It only figured that Ellis would be the one to propose the idea of going out on their own to get a few gas cans.

Virgil, nonetheless, was probably expecting them to pay for their free ride by getting him the gas. He smiled at Ellis, the look making everyone wonder how many sets of "greats" were in his grandchild's name for him.

"Yes'm," He replied heartily, "Found a spot to let ya'll off so yous can find me some gas. S'not far." Ellis nodded, thinking about the situation for a moment before turning to the others.

"We all good with this?" He asked with a tilt of his head. Nick shrugged, Rochelle smiled wearily, and Coach simply nodded. Dal had his head bowed, trying to block out the sun with his hair. Nevertheless, he nodded just barely enough to be noticeable. At least he had picked up on the body language.

Virgil gave a curt nod before disappearing back to his station in the small center tower on the boat. Nick glanced at Dal, who had lifted a hand once Virgil had vanished and started pawing at his eyes. Understandingly, Nick reached over and replaced his hood on top of his head. Dal looked up, his eyes practically pouring tears from the brightness. Nick suddenly felt bad for putting him through that kind of torment, but tried to refrain from actually regretting it.

He took his gaze off Dal's thankful expression, returning his attention to the water beside him. It was dark and rather murky, but it still had a gentle hint of blue. It probably wasn't clean anymore, especially not after all the human and animal blood that had been spilled into it during their little group's massacre of the swamps and Mississippi deltas.

The vessel began to drift through the water, the engine starting up a gentle whirring that was nothing compared to the usual snarling and yelling that it did. It was only a few minutes later when they were getting off the ship.

"Alrighty folks," The captain called to them from his deck, "If ya' just cross town, there'll be gas cans in one a'the houses. Signal me when ya' git back!" The ship pulled away, and only three seconds after it had disappeared, Nick cursed.

"What?"

"I left the guns. Fuck." Ellis blinked, looking at the ground at their feet; it was true. Nick had forgotten the guns, even thought he had been specifically assigned the task of bringing them off the ship.

"Good job, Nick," Rochelle said as playfully as she could manage. She had hoped that the fighting was over, but it seemed like it was going to be just another day of bloodshed for them.

Rochelle was surprised when she saw that Nick hadn't exactly gotten her joke. He shook his head distractedly, "God damn. Sorry guys. The flares were in that bag."

There was a dead silence that fell over them. Ellis reached into his medical kit, pulling out a single flare. Dal looked like he wanted to reach up, grab it and then run away with it.

"I have one." He spoke up. Coach patted him on the back, apparently recalling Ellis picking that one up and keeping it to himself. Nick gave him an apologetic look, but Ellis only smiled, waving off his mistake with a shrug.

"Well, we can talk about getting Virgil's attention when we get back. I have the map of town, so we shouldn't get _too_ lost." Coach said with a slightly exaggerated smile. He was clearly not happy about Nick leaving their real weapons onboard, but he was just as clearly not going to say anything about it.

In the small building in front of them that look remarkably like a wannabe McDonald's they were able to find a couple of simple weapons. Ellis was able to regain a pair of pistols, which made him happy all by itself. Nick went with the magnum, simply because he preferred being able to use a minimum amount of ammo on anything.

Upon further inspection, Rochelle came across a cupboard in the back of the building. Stuffed inside was a submachine gun and a chrome shotgun. Rochelle took advantage of the submachine and Coach was happy enough to have his preferred type of gun. He definitely preferred the combat shotgun, but what was available would do just fine. Nick couldn't understand how Coach could stand to reload that slowly in the face of a Tank, but he also knew that the man was they're only way around a Witch that just _wouldn't move_.

Nick glanced down at Dal bemusedly. He was sniffing the air, a scowl on his face. Whatever he was picking up, he didn't seem to like it. He didn't give it another thought, looking to see where the others were.

They had spread out the map on one of the tables in the diner-gas station combo. Ellis was watching, obviously bored as Rochelle and Coach continued to trace roads and points to marks on the map that would point them towards a gas station. The one they were in was empty, unfortunately. Deciding to let them do their thing, Nick glanced down at Dal again before wandering towards the back, wondering if he would be able to find anything else to assist them on their journey.

"Nick!" He turned around abruptly, walking out into the open.

"What?"

"We're leavin'," Ellis replied with a yawn. Nick nodded, reaching over and grabbing a bile jar off the nearby countertop and attached it to his belt as he followed Ellis outside. A mountain of ugly, gray clouds were peaking over the horizon. Rochelle was standing perfectly still, staring at the clouds hard.

"It's coming this way," She said, glancing at Coach. The older man nodded discontentedly.

"Well, then I guess we better make this quick, folks." Nick was assuming that the scowl he'd seen on Dal earlier probably had something to do with the oncoming rain. Whether it was the smell of it or the fact that he was going to be drenched was unknown.

…

"Garage sale." Nick read with raised eyebrows, "Damn. It was three weeks ago. We missed it."

Ellis chuckled, firing twice at a milling infected and missing both times. Nick raised his gun and fired, hitting it in the chest as it was running towards them.

"Ya' know, I'm not usually this bad a shot with pistols." Ellis remarked, "I mean, I can usually hit 'em right on while I'm walking."

Coach glanced at him with a reassuring look, "You're probably just outta practice, Ellis."

The mechanic nodded half-heartedly. Dal was leading them, looking like he knew where he was going, even though he glanced over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure everyone was still there. He made a strange sound in his throat, catching Nick's attention instantly as he slowed down in his pace.

"What?" The conman muttered, his eyes wandering the area as he searched for the cause behind Dal's almost complete halt. Dal had frozen in place, his eyes closed and a concentrated look on his face. The others were looking around as well, their eyes peeled for any sign of movement.

Abruptly, Dal whirled around, leaping towards Ellis with an angry snarl.

"Dal!" Nick shouted, startled as Ellis ducked to avoid damage. The next thing he heard was an angry shriek and a hyperactive kind of laugh. A _Jockey_? How had it managed to…?

"Damn!" Ellis had turned around, taking aim with his pistols. But he hesitated a moment too much as Dal was being dragged away, stumbling around and shrieking as he clawed at the animal on his head. Forgetting for only a moment that he was using a magnum, Nick took aim and fired several times. He barely missed twice, grazing the Jockey's skin as he started running after them.

He heard the sound of bullets whizzing past him and yelled furiously, "Don't shoot with those, you'll _kill him_!"

Dal either tripped or forced himself to fall to the ground, landing on top of the Jockey and then rolling away with a frightened cry. The Jockey took a moment to regain his bearings, seeing Nick and jumping after him. The conman wasting not even a second before firing at it while Dal simultaneously leapt at it with an enrage shriek.

Nick nearly shot him in the head, managed to stop his trigger finger at the last moment. The Hunter looked up at him and grinned.

Nick punched him across the face, "Don't you _ever_ jump in front of my line of fire! I almost _shot_ you, dumbass!" He was about ready to throttle him, but Ellis appeared in his peripheral vision, looking out of breath and shaken.

"You okay?" Dal whimpered, gently pressing his forehead to Nick's knee as if in apology. Nick ignored him, turning to face the other two approaching survivors. There was a deep scratch in Rochelle's left arm, making Nick's brow furrow. He was only slightly irritated that she was hurt.

"What happened?" Rochelle blinked, apparently forgetting about the injury.

"Oh…" She shrugged, "He brought a friend." Rochelle indicated the corpse on the ground with her elbow and cocked her head behind her. Nick spotted the Spitter lying a few yards away, covered in her own sticky, green acid. He took note of what looked like a burn on Coach's hand, as well as the slight skin irritation surrounding the injuries.

"We should probably treat those," Nick murmured, "If they get infected, it'll slow us down."

Rochelle shook he head, "No, it's fine…"

"Ro, he's got a point," Coach agreed, "Yours is pretty deep, and it's bleeding quite a bit."

The woman sighed heavily, "You guys always baby me."

Nick raised his eyebrows, "If you die, who's suppose to repopulate the Earth with me?"

Rochelle's face flushed to a deep shade of red as she punched him in the chest, "You-…!"

They took a few minutes to treat the newly acquired injuries. Dal's face had been cut up pretty bad, and Rochelle and Coach's aforementioned wounds didn't look pretty. Ellis guarded as Nick bandaged, his ex-wife's old position as an EMT putting a lot more knowledge in his mind than he could ever have asked for. Not to mention his usual violent lifestyle, but that was a totally different story.

It wasn't long before they were back on their way, eventually coming to the garage sale that Nick had spotted the sign for earlier. Dal was unfazed, despite his injuries, and was leading the group again. He winced noticeably, glancing up at the sky sourly as he continued walking. It wasn't long before a gentle rain was pouring down on them, quickly soaking their clothes. Dal was grumbling wordlessly, obviously unhappy with the rain.

Heads bowed against the breeze that was blowing rain into their faces, they were glad that the infected seemed to dislike rain. They had, for the most part, disappeared from sight, probably hiding in houses or under trees to stay dry.

Nick glanced up, spotting a safe house and sighing in relief. The minutes were beginning to seem like forever. They hurried up the stairs and barricading the door with a table to make sure that no one got in. Dal looked like a soaked rat, shivering where he sat on the floor and making disgruntled noises. Nick glanced over at him with an amused look on his face, looking away quickly when the Hunter looked to find out who was staring at him.

Ellis pulled his shirt over his head without a thought, knocking his hat to the floor and revealing a brown mess of hair. He had a lot more of it that it looked when he wore his hat. He stepped towards the stairs that led to the exit of the safe room and twisted it until water was dripping. Once he was satisfied, he put it back on and turned around to retrieve his hat.

Nick was watching bemusedly as Dal fit the cap over his head, earning himself a light chuckle from Coach and Rochelle. Ellis only looked for a second before he spotted his cap on the Hunter's head.

"Dal, give him back his hat," Nick spoke with a smirk. Dal tugged it off his head and extended it out to Ellis, who stuck it back on his own head with a grin.

"The hood fits ya' better." Dal stuck out his tongue, apparently understanding the tone of voice as teasing.

Nick had already taken note that Dal recovered from a harsh tone quickly. Only ten minutes earlier, if not less, Nick had punched him for being overly protective and during their time in the swamp the Hunter had been yelled at repeatedly. But never once had the sad vibe lasted for more than a few minutes. He didn't know if it was just that Dal forgot that quickly or if he was hiding it. He felt bad all of a sudden, guilt working its way into his gut and making a mess of things.

He felt a weight on his leg, and looked down. Dal was still sitting on the floor, but he had scooted over to Nick and was leaning on him. The conman rolled his eyes and slid out from under the infected. Dal subsequently ended up hitting his head on the wall rather hard. The Hunter whimpered sadly, rubbing the side of his head and looking up at Nick, who was lowering himself to the floor to sit down.

"You're such a brat." Nick extended one leg and Dal took the opportunity to plant his head on Nick's lower thigh. The conman frowned deeply, glowering darkly at Rochelle and Ellis, who were holding back there laughter, and Coach, who was smiling in the most condescending manner Nick had ever seen.

"I'll kill all of you." He growled.


	6. Its Pouring

**_VI_**

…

It was a buddy system of sorts, though it was definitely not the same as the one you'd see the girl scouts doing. No, this was a group buddy system, in which everyone held onto at least on person in the ground to avoid being separated. Nick was clutching Rochelle's hand on his right and gently squeezing Dal's shoulder in his left. Ellis was on Rochelle's other side, holding her hand as well, and Coach had a hand on Ellis' bicep so that the youngest of the group could continue to hold his pistol and fire at anything that came their way. Nick had Dal using his newly acquired skills with a magnum to pick off anything and everything that came their way.

They were walking. Slowly, but they were still walking.

The rain was beating on Nick's head, and it was making his already-present headache worse. He glanced over at Dal, almost wanting to laugh at how pitiful the poor Hunter looked. He was drenched, and he looked _miserable_. He wasn't being forced to carry a gas can, as Nick had concluded for the team that if they slowed down what was currently their best asset, there could potentially be more impending danger than was really necessary. Dal didn't like the scent of gasoline, and it had taken a lot of persuading to get the Hunter to walk as close to their group during a storm as he had to. Nick was going to have a very angry Hunter to deal with later.

The Hunter suddenly stopped, and due to Nick's tight grip on his shoulder, the conman noticed it immediately. He stopped in his tracks, and Rochelle nearly fell over from the suddenness. Ellis caught her with Nick's help, and Coach glanced at the end of the line.

"What's…?"

The older man trailed off at the sound that was coming out of Dal's mouth. The small infected had become totally tense and alert. Nick let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as dizziness sifted into his head.

The sound that Dal was making was getting progressively louder, a deep guttural growl that was actually making his entire body vibrant against Nick's fingers.

The Hunter shrieked suddenly, and Nick interpreted it quickly, "Move! Run!" He barked, releasing Rochelle's hand and all but diving to the side. The vibrating that Nick had felt wasn't even close to what he'd thought; a Tank came barreling through, turned away from Nick and chased after the other three survivors. The conman cursed, turning around and making a wide berth around the Tank's line of vision, keeping an eye on all three of them. Rochelle went under a stairwell as Coach and Ellis ran up it, and the Tank seemed to be more interested in the single female in their group.

Rochelle was swearing louder than Nick had thought possible, aiming her gun over her shoulder and unloading an entire magazine into the beast. As she was turning around to face the Tank while simultaneously searching her belt for more ammo, she tripped. The Tank swung down at her, and she shrieked in fright, rolling out of the way and getting back up. She continued running, looking over her shoulder with wide eyes. Coach and Ellis were shouting for her, but she couldn't hear Nick's voice. Was he okay? Her eyes searched for him, but she didn't spot him anywhere.

When she finally returned her vision to the area in front of her, there was a complete obstacle. A wiring of pipes that crisscrossed all around in front of her; Rochelle clearly remembered having to climb up to get over them when they had been coming from the other side.

She whirled around, as the Tank was swinging at her, shutting her eyes and preparing for certain death. As she suspected, something slammed into her side, but it wasn't nearly as hard a blow as she had expected. Rochelle opened her eyes, seeing something white and blue pinning her to the ground, and behind the man on top of her was the arm of a Tank, smashing hard into the ground and being pulled back again for a second attack.

"Rochelle!" She heard a shout in the distance as the numbness began to fade, "GET UP!" Nick's voice pulled her back, he was shouting, looking frantic as he grabbed her arm and wrenched her up with him. She got up, stumbling slightly as she began pumping her legs a little too early. She saw a ladder; safety! Nick pulled away from it, grabbing her around the waist and pushing her at it. The ground was shaking behind them as Rochelle scrambled up the ladder.

"Nick, COME ON!" She glanced behind her when she reached the top, eyes widening even further. The conman was frantically lighting a Molotov. The Tank bellowed furiously, swinging an arm at Nick as he threw the alcoholic grenade. The Tank was a fiery blaze in seconds and Nick took the opportunity given to him in the form of the beast's confusion and swung himself around the ladder. As he slammed into the stone wall under the metal overpass, he heard a smash. The Tank had taken out the ladder altogether, and was swinging his left arm at Nick.

He crushed himself against the wall, all but biting a hole into his lip as he braced to be crushed into pulp. He heard a splatter, and his eyes flew open at the familiar scent. He turned away and started running, hearing and feeling the ground trembling underneath him. Infected galore could be heard yelling and shouting as they attacked the Tank mindlessly. They had to at least have slowed the beast down. He resurfaced from beneath the overpass and heard Coach shout. Nick whirled around in time to catch the M-16 that he had abandoned in exchange for saving Rochelle. Judging from the Hunter beside the other three survivors, it could be assumed that Dal had retrieved it.

"Nick, get up here! We'll cover you!" Ellis shouted over the gunfire. Nick narrowed his eyes, crouching down and taking aim with the gun. He planted his aim right between the Tank's eyes; normally, this kind of thing would've killed it by now, but this particular Tank seemed to be destined to kill all of them.

_Not a chance,_ Nick snarled in his head, "I'll be fine."

Coach gave him a somewhat mortified look as Nick started firing. The older man shook his head, watching as Dal darted forward and leapt at the Tank with a warning shriek. Nick swore violently as the Hunter planted himself on the monstrous infected's head, slashing at him like he was crazy.

"DAL, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!" Nick roared, taking off back towards his Hunter pal, and continuing to fire, only this time into the Tank's abdomen. He winced slightly as Dal all but twirled around the Tank's head, biting and slashing as he maneuvered around the bashing fists. That was when Nick came to decide the Dal knew exactly what he was doing.

"CEASE FIRE!" The other three survivors halted in there assault immediately, watching as Dal all but forced the Tank to destroy his own body - specifically his head.

He fell suddenly, losing his balance and collapsing backwards while Dal was still clutching to his left shoulder. The Hunter let out a startled cry as he was sandwiched between soggy grass and the bloody muscles of the Tank. Nick was laughing like a madman as he ran forward to help Dal to safety. The others covered him as he used one foot to prop the Tank's massive shoulder up a bit and used both hands and all his strength to pull Dal free.

.

When they finally reached the safe house closest to the gas station, where they decided to rest for a short amount of time, it was dark outside. The silence outside was ridiculously nerve-wracking as Coach lit the only lamp in the room, sliding it into the far corner to ensure that a minimal amount of light was making its way outside. The infected had sensitive eyes, so their best bet during the night was to keep their flashlights pointed at the ground and the lamps hidden for the most part.

Nick practically fell to the ground, wiggling his toes inside his sopping wet shoes with a sigh. His feet were so tired they were numb; the others were collapsing to the ground in their own personal manners, each letting out a relieved sigh.

Dal leaned up against the wall, shivering visibly. Nick watched him for a brief moment, "So, now that we're back and all… how are we going to signal Virgil?"

There was a dead silence that fell over the room, and Nick abruptly felt bad for saying anything at all. Coach glanced out the bars of the safe room door, eying something against the sky. Rochelle exchanged a brief glance with Ellis, both of whom seemed to vaguely understand that the wisest of the five of them seemed to be thinking.

"What if we lit up that Burger Tank sign?" Coach finally said, looking at the faces around him. Ellis nodded slowly, a smile growing on his features.

"Yea!" He said, adding to the thought, "I can light up my flare on the docks so that Virgil sees it, and we can camp out on the roof until he gets to us!"

Nick shook his head, "If we fire up that sign, we're going to attract everyone and their mother." He glanced over at Dal, who seemed to be getting a grasp on the situation, "Hordes mean Tanks, and we all know how well we tend to stick together when there's a Tank."

"What do you suggest, Nick?" Rochelle asked only slightly heatedly.

Nick shrugged, "I say we go for it. Don't any of you die on me," he turned to Dal, "And stay the hell out of my line of fire."

Dal scoffed, the sound coming out something akin to a disgruntled snort. Nevertheless, the group stood up, Nick handing over his magnum to Dal once again. After allowing Ellis to perch himself in front of the door and snipe through the bars of safety, they silently exited the premises. It was quiet, save for the sound of a retching infected nearby. Dal killed it with a single shot to the abdomen; he had become a pretty good shot since the plantation house fiasco.

The Burger Tank was flooded when they walked inside; not a surprise, everything else had been flooded along the way back. There was a bang on thunder, and Coach called for them to regroup. The squall tended to attract hordes, and the last thing they wanted was to be separated during a massive attack of infected.

The weather took its time, but after a small horde and a lot of skull crushing blows from Coach's newly acquired baseball bat. The storm finally died away for the time being, and they started stocking up for what they knew was going to be an impossibly difficult battle. Ellis was looking around the area, glancing like he was nervous about something. Dal was watching him carefully, scrutinizing his every move.

"Do you guys hear that?" He finally spoke up over the anxious chatter between Coach and Rochelle as they discussed a methodical plan. Nick looked over at the mechanic, listening carefully. Slowly, he shook his head, waiting expectantly for Ellis to describe the sound to them.

He seemed to get the hint as he listened carefully, trying to decipher the noise, "It sounds like growlin'… but like… different."

"Different in what way?" Coach asked, looking a bit worried that Ellis had gone crazy. The mechanic turned to his right peering down the way and swallowing hard.

"I can't describe it… you guys really can't hear it?" They all shook their heads, and Ellis chewed on his lip for a moment before shrugging.

"Maybe I'm just crazy." Rochelle smiled slightly at his half-hearted attempt at a joke, but she was also a bit worried. It would be bad for all of them if Ellis was really hearing something and they ended up startling yet another Witch on accident. They had already run their luck dry when Dal had managed to grab Nick and pull him up to safety at the last moment after startling a pair of Witches whom had been standing right next to each other.

Deciding that it was time, Coach accompanied Ellis out to the docks to light up the flare and position it so that it would be seen. Rochelle and Nick covered them from the roof. They would camp out up there, where they would be able to clearly see Virgil when he arrived and stay out of the water.

As the two men were running over to join Nick and Rochelle by the switches, Nick held up his flashlight, trying to decipher the scratched words as best he could. After coming to the conclusion that it was probably the bright red switch that would turn on the sign, Nick flipped it and looked up. As he had suspected, the lights turned on inside the sign, and it began to rotate slowly. The roar of excited infected reached their ears, and the four of them exchanged weary glances.

"He better be watching." Nick hissed under his breath, throwing a dirty look at the river behind them. Dal glanced up at the conman, looking slightly worried as his eyes grazed the area. It was clear that the Hunter didn't like the idea, but his opinion hadn't exactly been accounted for, considering the fact that he couldn't talk.

Ellis suddenly shouted, "Heads up to your left!" Nick turned in time with the young mechanic and opened fire on the horde that had finally made its way up the wall. It was easy to pick them off from the center of the roof, because the infected couldn't exactly make like a Hunter and sneak around silently.

Another squall blasted its way onto the roof, giving Rochelle a start when the thunder made itself known. The rain poured down on them harder, mixing with hail and completely devastating their ability to see. They pressed together further, a shriek from Dal alerting Coach that something was wrong. The older man glanced over his shoulder, and barked at the other two.

"Everyone still here?"

Nick and Rochelle replied in unison, "I'm here!" And that was when the three of them whirled around to search for Ellis. They heard a strangled yell, which easily alerted them to the situation, or at least a piece of it. Cursing vehemently, Nick scanning the area for the light that he had given Dal in case of emergency.

"NO! SHI-…!" The sound of his yelling trailed off into complete silence, and that was when Nick spotted the flickering light from Dal. Telling the other two to follow him, he started walking towards it as it began to flicker more rapidly.

They heard Ellis yelling desperately, "GET HIM OFF…!" Nick's eyes widened as the storm began to clear, the rain letting up slightly. Ellis was the one flickering the light, Dal pinning him down and opening his mouth to shriek. The sound that came out of his throat was deafening, and the fury in it was clear.

Ellis was gasping for breath at that point, the flickering of the flashlight beginning to slow as his eyes glazed over; he wasn't getting enough oxygen, and Dal was clearly noticing this. The Hunter shot a look at Nick before leaping off of Ellis and darting through the rain. The instant the weight had left his body; Ellis started to slide towards the edge of the roof. Nick dove for him as he suddenly jerked away, grasping the young man's ankle and shouting for the other's to help. Coach ran past and grabbed the mechanic as well as Nick began to go with him. The youngest in their group was barely struggling at that point, his lips slightly parted and saliva beginning to collect in the corner of his mouth. The lasso-like tongue tightened further around the boy's throat, cutting off his airways altogether.

"DAL, HURRY UP!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, his heart hammering in his throat as he watched consciousness beginning to slowly fade from Ellis' eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, sending up several hasty prayers in a complete state of panic. He felt the tug that had been steadily attempting to pull Ellis away from them suddenly slacken; free!

Coach had already noticed, grabbing the tongue tightly wrapped around the boy's throat and pulling it away as quickly as possible. The man was shaking, but it was barely noticeable. Rochelle was still covering them, and Nick heard her yell something, probably trying to make sure that they were okay.

Once he had freed Ellis from the death grip, Coach took a glance at the ghastly pale face, leaning over his face to check for breathing, which clearing wasn't happening by the expression on the older man's face. Nick all but shoved Coach away, placing a hand over Ellis' diaphragm and thrusting forward in one short burst of energy. For a split second, he thought that it hadn't worked, but as abruptly as he had disappeared, Ellis let out a strangled cough, gasping and spluttering as he came back to life.

"Ellis, sweetie, you okay?" Rochelle glanced at his stricken face for only a second before returning to her duty of protecting them. Coach had joined her on the defensive, utilizing the wide spray of his combat shotgun.

His eyes were watering slightly, but he quickly lifted a hand to rub them, still trembling from the start accompanied with nearly dying. Nick was still winded from the adrenaline burst, his hands trembling almost as much as Ellis' entire body. He pulled back to sit on his haunches.

"Are you okay?" Ellis nodded silently, carefully getting to his feet. He was so shaky, Nick wanted to pinch his arm and remind him that he was still alive, but he decided against it. The younger man had already retrieved his hunting rifle from nearby, and was nodding at Nick.

"Alright." The conman nodded approvingly and turned to the other two survivors. They had already taken up their initial positions by the sign. Nick scoured the area, his eyes narrowing as he searched for Dal.

"Dal!" He called loudly, hearing a Hunter's call to reassure him. Only a few minutes later Dal resurfaced from below, the front of his hoodie stained with red. The ground began to trembling violently as the sound of a bellowing Tank reached them.

They exchanged brief but serious glances, each one looking a certain direction, and each placing their own bets of how this particular Tank was going to make himself known.

The corner of the roof that Nick had been watching was suddenly struck with a huge piece of cement, and he called for the others' attention as they prepared to open fire. Suddenly, a boat horn sounded. Nick's mouth dropped slightly as he watched the infected change course to head for the boat.

"IS HE RETARDED!" The conman suddenly yelled, grabbed the bile jar attached to his hip and throwing it at the Tank. Without a single word to the others (they would figure it out), Nick took off towards the ship, praying that the commons would be enough to at least slow down the Tank for even a few seconds. The water rippled at their legs as they sloshed through the water as fast as possible. Virgil was telling them to "hurry up on m'girl now", and Nick was cursing the "stupid southerner" under his breath as they practically jumped onto the boat.

Not even a second after they had all gotten onto the ship, a boulder flew over their heads.

"GO! WE'RE ALL HERE! JUST GO!" Coach boomed over the frantic yelling of the other three survivors as they opened fire on the approaching horde.

Virgil clearly heard them, and the boat began to move, though slowly at first. Gasping for breath and completely shaken up, Rochelle let out a nervous laugh once they were far enough away to be considered safe. The captain of the ship resurfaced yet again as Dal was shaking his hood off his head.

The four of them had already taken the unhappy looking gas cans off their backs. They were still full of gasoline, thankfully, but they didn't look at all happy about their journey.

Virgil, however, seemed happy enough to have any gas at all, and he happily took it away to fill up the tank. Ellis watched him go, before leaning up against wall of the captain's deck. His throat was aching and it was hard to take deep breaths; all simple reminders that he just wasn't immortal.

But also reminders that he was indeed still alive.

* * *

**A/N**

**Yes, I know that I totally went through this Hard Rain campaign without encountering a single Witch. Couldn't think of how to make a scene including her, so I skipped her. There is still mention; its not like they didn't encounter any Witches at all, its just that you don't need to know about it. Long as hell chapter, the next one probably won't be anything close to as interesting, but you ought to make sure you read it anyway, in case it turns out to be interesting after all.**

**OMFG I ALMOST KILLED ELLIS. You should've SEEN MY FACE writing that scene! _I_ was panicking, and I was writing it!**


	7. Eggshells

**_VII_**

…

But reminders weren't always enough.

The nightmares hadn't been quite as bad as they were that night in a long time. Nick barely managed to force himself awake at least every half an hour, short of breath and barely containing his fright. Once deciding that, yes, he was still safely secured in the cozy sleeping bag that Virgil had provided; Nick lowered his head back down and shivered. It was colder when they slept on boats and in copters than it was when they were in safe houses.

He let his eyes slip shut almost nervously, his heart rate already picking up when he came back into the familiar setting of darkness.

However, at the first sensation of being grabbed roughly by a decaying hand, the world swam back in the view. Nick's eyes opened again, and he blinked blearily as he heard someone gently calling his name.

"Nick…" He reached up a hand to rub his dry eyes and disturbed Dal as he rolled over to find out who was disturbing his failed attempt at a peaceful slumber. Ellis wasn't wearing his hat; in fact, when he glanced around the boat for evidence that he was indeed the only one awake, he spotted the accessory lying on the mechanic's sleeping bag.

The younger man watched him, fiddling with his hands absentmindedly as Nick sat up, rubbing his half-asleep eyes to rouse himself the rest of the way. There was a lengthy pause as Nick all but shoved Dal away from him, inciting a grunt of displeasure. The Hunter was back instantly, laying his head down on Nick's thigh.

"For fuck's…" He trailed off, turning his attention to the matter at hand; Ellis. "What is it?" He was barely able to hold Ellis' gaze, noting that he seemed to be a bit on the jittery or nervous side.

"W-well…" Nick waited for him to continue as he groped in the dark for the right words, "I couldn't sleep, so I, uh… I was jus' wonderin' if you'd talk to me for a bit… Sorry if I woke you up."

_Nightmares_ was the first thing that Nick thought, and his stomach did a tumbling act in his abdomen as he cleared his throat quietly and scratched the back of his head. How was he supposed to help?

"Why didn't you wake up Rochelle or Coach?" _Why did you wake up the biggest jackass on this entire boat to help you sleep?_

He wondered briefly if he had given the words a deeply irritated undertone. It hadn't been his intention, but the put-off expression on Ellis' face was almost painful to look at.

"If you wanna go back to sleep, then I'll leave ya' alone…" Ellis mumbled, about to stand up and leave the conman to go back to sleep.

He shook his head quickly, reaching out and slamming a hand down on Ellis' shoulder to put him back on the wooden floor, "Why would you come to _me_ for help if you're having nightmares?"

The mechanic averted his gaze and shrugged, staring at Nick's mouth instead of his eyes, "Never said I was havin' nightmares…" His southern accent was thicker than normal, but that might've been because he was tired. Nick raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"You were asleep every time I've waken up so far tonight. You were sleeping fine until a little while ago, right?" He paused, staring at Ellis intently, "You didn't answer my question."

He looked down at his lap, his expression weary. The conman didn't take his eyes off Ellis for even a second, ignoring everything around them. Whatever reason he had, it was clear that Ellis didn't want to talk. But Nick wasn't going to let that slide.

"Ellis," His warning tone came into play, his gaze hardening. The younger man finally looked up, looking surprised, if not intimidated. Nick hadn't used that tone on him for any reason. _Ever_.

"W-I was jus'…" He mumbled, trailing off into silence again before picking up where he'd mentally left off, "Ya' ever come close to dyin'?"

_Oh,_ Nick thought, _that's what this is about…_

"Actually," Nick replied slowly, his mind reeling back to a particular memory, "Yes, I have. More than once."

Being a conman and a gambler, he naturally had a tendency to get himself into all kinds of trouble, but only twice had he nearly been killed. An ache settled in his heart and turned into nausea within seconds.

Ellis looked at him hopefully, "Didja ever have… nightmares?"

There was a long, painful pause. On one hand, Nick didn't want to admit to his bad dreams, and he didn't want to give Ellis nightmares by describing them. But he didn't want to lie either and make the kid feel like he was just stupid and wimpy or something.

"Yea," He found himself saying the words before he could stop himself, "Even I get nightmares, Ellis." Pause, "I've been having a recurring one for more than a week now."

The kid looked astonished; Nick wondered if it was really that surprising. He hadn't looked all that shocked to hear that Nick had nearly been killed. Was that supposed to be some kind of insult to his person?

He watched as Ellis lowered his gaze again, speaking softly with something of a humbled tone, "How'd ya' get rid of 'em?" His accent thickened rather suddenly, and Nick briefly wondered if he was going to pass out.

"My mom," Nick suddenly said, "One day, when she wasn't drunk," _No, no, no. Don't bring this up._ "She used to tell me to throw them." _Shut up, Nick!_

"Throw 'em?"

_Stop._ "Yea. She'd give me stones, and I'd write a word that I could associate with the nightmares." _Stop._ "And I'd throw them in the pond behind our house."

Ellis was staring at him, "Did… did that really help?"

Nick nodded slowly, "It did before this apocalypse. After…" He trailed off into silence, averting his gaze quickly. _No, stop_. He told himself sternly, s_hut up, Nick. _

"Nick," Ellis said slowly, "You... do you have a stone?"

Nick shook his head slowly, a painful smile gracing his features for only a split second, "You've got a good head on your shoulders, Ellis."

The kid seemed to get the hint, smiling nervously, "Thank you, Nick…"

_That was too close._

"Don't mention it."

He lay down, watching Ellis with a nostalgic look in his eyes as the young man made his imaginary stone, wrote on it with an imaginary marker, and threw it. If he had listened carefully enough, he was sure that he would've been able to hear the splash.

.

The morning sunlight was excruciatingly bright. Nick hadn't managed to get much more sleep than he had expected after sending Ellis back to bed. The mechanic had been able to sleep through the night, comforted by the notion that he wasn't the only one suffering from nightmares. Nick was actually surprised that Rochelle hadn't waken up in cold sweats yet, considering how much had been lost right before her eyes.

Then again, he ought to stop thinking that she was an easily frightened child. She could kill like the boys, and she could keep up too. He knew why he worried, but sometimes, just watching her fight, he wondered if it was reasonable.

Dal was dead to the world, lying on his side with his hood strategically maneuvered to cover his face. And he was still curled up against the conman, who had just about given up trying to get him to turn off the cuddling instincts. He was like a cat. Nick liked cats. Nick _didn't_ like human guys with incurable diseases who screeched like banshees and curled themselves all over him like they wanted to be cats. In fact, he was on the anti side of that particular debate.

Nick shifted his weight, trying to regain feeling in the leg that Dal had stolen. A sharp pain echoed throughout his entire leg. "Dal," He half-heartedly called. The Hunter barely stirred, "I can't feel my leg." Dal lifted his head up and prodded Nick's leg for a brief moment.

Then he crawled over the conman's legs and basically switched sides. Nick let out a heavy, irritated side. He heard a soft giggle and looked up at Rochelle, frowning deeply at her. How dare she laugh at his suffering?

"Yea, funny." He muttered sourly. She smiled, crawling over to join him, too lazy to actually stand up. She sat down on the side that Dal wasn't sleeping, leaning up against the side and letting out a sigh.

"It's nice, you know."

He raised his eyebrows, "What's nice?" He forced his tone to lose its usual cold demeanor. It wasn't often that he was allowed to have a conversation with Rochelle. Ellis was still sleeping; he must've been really tired. Coach was almost as dead to the world as Dal, but that was normal. He seemed to need as much sleep as a toddler, though he never got it.

"The sky." She replied, staring up at it. Nick blinked, his expression blank as he took a second to carefully observe her relaxed face. The bruises and cuts had mostly healed, revealing a glowing beauty to be accompanied by the most tranquil gaze Nick had ever seen on her. He followed her gaze, looking up at the colorful sky. The sun was just rising, illuminating the world with shades of orange, and maybe a hint of pink. It'd been a long time since he'd been allowed to take the time to watch the sunrise.

"Did you ever watch the sunrise when you were little?" A painful memory surfaced, but Nick swallowed it down after a moment of careful deciding.

"I never had a chance." He replied softly, holding back the urge to wince when he felt Rochelle shift to glance at him. "I didn't start watching sunrises until after I left home." That word - home - tasted bitter on his tongue. He had never referred to his parents' house as 'home' before. He wondered if it was a subconscious desire for something better.

He wanted to gag on the sentimentalism of it.

"Nick," Rochelle was still staring at him; he was watching Dal's side as it lifted and sank with his breathing. "Hey."

He _really_ didn't want to look at her; he could feel the waver in his tenacity and knew instantly that if she asked him anything, he was going to answer it. He _really_ didn't want to look at her, not when he knew she'd been able to sense his sudden weakness.

He did it anyway, raised his head and looking at her directly. He didn't smile, tried to wipe all emotion from his face. But he could feel that there was something left, and it _just wouldn't_ come off.

"Why did you leave home?"

_Why?_ He thought in disbelief, _if you give me a good, hard stare, you'll be able to see exactly why._

It wasn't like he wanted to lie.

"I had to." He said, his voice coming out a lot cooler than he'd thought. She recoiled; he could sense it. She was backing off, and fast.

_Listen to me_, "Mom was always drunk, and Dad was…" He paused, deciding that he didn't want to bring up the relationship he'd had with his father. Rochelle was beginning to show signs of being intimidated. His stomach was lunging around in his abdomen as the memories surfaced, making his throat want to close up.

_Listen_, "I didn't have a lot of friends." He sucked in a deep, unkind breath, feeling the anger rising slowly, "I wasn't really supposed to talk unless I was spoken to. And Dad… Well, let's just say we didn't get along."

"I couldn't get myself out until I was 21." She was staring at him, looking something akin to horrified. A sympathetic looked crossed her face, but it vanished instantly.

_I don't want your pity._

"Nick," She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully.

_Don't eggshell around me._

"I'm glad that we met."

_Just be here, for a minute…_

He lowered his gaze to the wooden floor between them, eying a small tear in Rochelle's pants, near the top of her boot. His stomach was still flipping about, and his lips parted slightly; he wanted to say something, in reply. Show her his gratitude.

"Why?"

A hand reached out and touched his hand, and he had to work hard to keep from wincing away. His head was swimming with unpleasantness, memories threatening to take him by the throat and throttle him until he couldn't think straight.

She rolled her eyes, "Must you men always have reasons?"

He would've replied to her rhetorical question, but the sound of stirring bodies reaching them. Nick looked over, watching with raised eyebrows as Ellis groggily sat up and yawned. Coach barely moved, but Rochelle definitely saw his eyes open before he had begun to get up.

"Mornin'!" Ellis greeted cheerily as he stood up to investigate the sky, "The weather looks nice today."

"We were just talking about that," Rochelle intervened with Coach's incredibly nosy thoughts, "If you'd been up about half an hour ago, you would've sent an incredible sunrise."

Nick nodded in agreement, not saying at word as he went back to observing Dal's sleeping form. He was still attached as he'd been in the first place; Nick sighed heavily.

"You know," He muttered, adjusting the way he was sitting slightly, trying not to disturb the Hunter, "Usually he's awake long before me."

Coach chuckled, "If he wasn't breathing, I'd have thought he'd died." The conman smirked. Ellis was watching him, and he could feel the gaze stronger than anything.

"How'd ya' sleep, Nick?" The mechanic asked with his trademark grin.

He looked up at Ellis briefly, his eyes narrowing marginally, "Like shit." He hoped that his expression would be warning enough to tell Ellis to back off. The kid seemed to understand well enough, as his smile faded slightly and he stopped talking.

.

"Stay safe, Virgil!" Ellis called to the vessel as it began to ease away from the dock.

"Ol' Virgil's gonna see if 'e can help s'more folks." With a cheery laugh and a wish of good luck, he set off, leaving them behind. Coach glanced up at the sky as a deafening noise hit them suddenly.

"Jets are still flyin'!" He said almost excitedly, "We've come through hell, people, and now we're on the last mile! Let's make this count!"

Rochelle smiled broadly, catching Nick's eye almost too easily. He smiled slightly at her, before turning to face the ramp that would take them into the city.

"Are we ready? Because there's still time to swim back to that's boat." Nick glanced over his shoulders at the other, an expression that they hadn't seen before on his face. It was something skin to a homicidal maniac and an impressively determined, sane person. Nevertheless, they exchanged brief glances, Ellis giving a whoop to signal that they were ready.

They had remembered to bring their guns off the ship this time, though they were low on ammo and the nearest full pile of it was unknown. While they would have to give up the better weapons for the less powerful ones, at least they would have ammo. There was only bullets and shells for the pump shotgun and two submachine guns sitting on the table. Ellis took his preferred pistols, stocking up with what there was available, and Nick and Rochelle opted to take the two machine guns. Coach, naturally, took what no one else dared to take.

He had pretty good aim, considering that he claimed to have never used a gun before. Nick looked up at the sound of Ellis fired a couple of shots; a few infected had heard them, or maybe come to investigate after seeing the boat.

"Let's move." Nick said, his voice commanding as he started walking. The others looked surprised to see him take the lead so quickly.

"You been here before, Nick?"

There was a brief pause between Coach's question and the conman's answer, "Yea," He said, "This is where I met Cheryl." His voice was cool, and he took the time to fire at a few more infected before continuing walking. "I came here a few of years ago to swindle some people. Got a good bit of money, too. Then I went to Atlantic City and lost it all."

Rochelle blinked, shaking her head slightly, "Wait, wait… who's Cheryl?"

"Second and last." Rochelle understood instantly, deciding to back off. Silence fell over the group yet again.

Ellis seemed to understand the conversation as well, and he curiously piped in, "Who was first?"

Nick glanced at him briefly, almost surprised that he had asked, "Her name was Sarah." A sour expression crossed his face, "She was a bitch. I'm glad she hated me."

His comment made a slightly more relaxing atmosphere, pulling a light chuckle from the other three survivors.

"Yea, yea… Laugh at my suffering, why don't you."

Ellis smiled brightly, "Aw, don't take it bad, bro!"

There was a pause, "If I was your 'bro', I'd kill myself to avoid being associated with you."

It figured that nothing he ever said could possibly deter Ellis' cheerful mood, "Ya know, one time Keith and I were shoppin' for my Ma, and this lil' girl comes up an' says she's lost. So Keith gets the bright idea that…"

At least there was one thing that hadn't changed much; Ellis' non sequiturs.

"… He was on the run fer nearly two years before I got the lady to drop the charges!"


	8. Kill All Carriers!

**_VIII_**

…

It wasn't hard to notice the instant that Dal began to drift away from the group. Nick wasn't sure why the Hunter seemed to want to walk a bit further away from them, but he was trying not to let it drift to the forefront of his mind. He had shifted back to his more feral and comfortable position, walking around on all fours for the most part, and gaining the tendency to abandon them altogether to jump roofs. Nick had one eye on him at every given moment, almost forgetting to fire at oncoming hordes when he was busy looking for his Hunter pal.

He hadn't realized that he had become so attached to Dal until the Hunter started distancing himself.

Nick had been speculating for the past hour that they had been walking on why Dal hadn't been rubbing up on his legs all day like normal. In fact, it had been a while since he'd been at their side, instead walking around through back alleys and jumping on roofs, letting out a certain pitched shriek to warn the others of oncoming attacks or Special Infected.

"Hope he stays outta trouble," Coach sighed, watching the Hunter carefully as he leapt to the next roof, paying more attention to them more than he was paying to where he was going. Rochelle nodded, but spoke reassuringly.

"I'm sure he'll be okay. He may not be threatening, but he _is_ a Hunter."

Ellis nodded, a cheery grin on his face as he fired at a couple of strays that were wandering around the streets. "Hunters're pretty fast, after all."

Nick was obviously not convinced, but he decided to keep his pessimistic thoughts to himself, at least for now. He had a bad feeling in his gut, and while that was completely normal during a zombie apocalypse, he still had the tendency to trust his more obvious of bad gut feelings.

.

"I hate this." Nick groaned, "Every other goddamn day I'm sloshing through this kind of shit. Why hast thou forsaken me?" Dal was covering his face with his sleeve, barely holding back the gagging sound that he was periodically making.

Coach smiled, the look coming across more like a grimace. "Well, Nick, the ladders right there, so He hasn't forsaken ya' too badly."

Ellis chuckled lightheartedly, continuing to be the heart and soul of their posse, "It ain't _that_ bad, Nick! Least there're no bodies down here."

There was a short, agonizing pause, "Ellis, have you looked down recently?"

The mechanic glanced at his feet, "Aw, shit!"

Coach allowed Ellis to climb the ladder first, telling him to break out his sniper and cover as the others followed him. The young man nodded, clambering up quickly, only pausing to check that the coast was clear.

They heard a rather unhappy groan from Ellis. Nick sent Dal up after him, the Hunter darting up to get out of the sewers as fast as possible.

Once they had all gotten out, it was easy to see what Ellis had been groaning about. There were cars all over the lot in font of them, haphazardly parked and abandoned by their owners.

And they _all_ had alarms, the lights flickering as the group drew closer.

"This is bad," Rochelle stated matter-of-factly, "Who has something short rang? Like a bat…?"

Coach heaved a sigh that said bad news, "I have one, but its wood and its cracking. I was hoping to replace it soon."

Nick glanced down at his side, staring at Dal, "If we run through this mess," he indicated the lot, "Would you be able to keep those things away until we get to the other side?"

Dal made a thoughtful face, stretching upwards and straightening out his back. It popped several times, but the team had already gotten used to it. He glanced around the area, and from his expression is looked like he was counting.

He sniffed the air briefly, his eyes squinting into slits as a small amount of sunlight made its way under his hood.

Finally, he looked over at Nick and nodded reassuringly. The conman smirked slightly, "Alright, team." He glanced over at them, "We're going to run for our lives. Dal will cover us."

He handed over his magnum, "This is for close quarter emergencies. In other words, if I'm being pounded by a Charger, you'd better be no more than a foot away when you start shooting."

Dal nodded, seeming to understand well enough for Nick's tastes. Within a few minutes, after a pep talk from Coach and one snide comment from the resident pessimist himself, they had started running.

They dodged through cars, blocking out the sounds of infected being cruelly murdered around them by the Hunter they had unleashed. They made it to the ladder on the other side; Ellis went first, closely followed by Rochelle and Coach, and finally Nick and Dal.

"We found a bridge, of some sort." Nick observed, "I guess we're getting _somewhere _with this, right?" They started towards an ambulance, all but raiding it for supplies. Dal stood watch, staring at the sky as jets flew by overhead. His conman of a makeshift friend was standing beside him, his eyes scanning the area for infected.

"Dal," He finally said, glancing down at the Hunter and not noticing that the others were standing right behind him, "Why do you keep jumping to the roofs instead of walking with me?" That had come out _completely_ wrong. Curses, foiled again.

Dal looked at him blankly, "Dal…" He croaked in reply.

Nick sighed, shaking his head, "Never mind."

"We ready to go?" Coach suddenly spoke up from behind him. The conman turned around, thinking for a moment before nodding mutely.

"Let's go, then!" Ellis cheered. He was probably a little bit too excited about rescue, considering how their last three attempts had ended in tragedy.

Deciding that he probably ought to burst the kid's bubble, Nick spoke up cynically, "Gee, I hope that our pilot isn't infected so that I have to shoot him again."

Ellis blinked at him, looking like he had never thought of such a complex idea. The expression was laughable as the conman turned around and started walking. Ellis opened his mouth to speak, storming over towards Nick. The conman already had a head start, but Ellis was persistent as he called out.

"Nick, you-…!" He was cut off when Dal let out a startled screeched, scaring the wits out of Nick. A moment later, a blast of noise and heat erupted maybe 50 feet in front of him. Instinctively, Nick reached up with both arms to shield his face as the force of the blast sent him stumbling backwards. The ground trembled, and he lowered his arms in time to spot the huge piece of cement being hurled at him.

"TANK!" He shouted, ducked under the flying rock and bending down briefly to grab the gun that he'd dropped. The others were already unloading their bullets at the thing, but it didn't seem to want to give up. Its body was badly burned and it was bleeding profusely from other injuries that had been a result of the recent bombing.

Nick backed up a bit as it lunged towards them, swinging its mighty fists for a final time before slumping into a heap on the ground.

"Well," Rochelle said once she had decided the start breathing again, "That was… a surprise."

"What the _hell_ are they _doing_?" Nick snarled, turning around to glower at Ellis' continuously cheerful expression.

"Gee, Ellis, I sure hope we don't get _bombed_ before we get to that _fucking bridge_." That had been a low blow; a shot to the chest. Ellis' smile vanished, replaced by shock. Rochelle stepped forward, walking past Ellis and towards Nick. For a moment, he thought she was going to punch him across the face.

"If you don't have anything worthwhile to say," She snapped, "Then I suggest you _shut you mouth_."

Coach cleared his throat rather loudly, "Alright team," He said calmly, "Let's relax and keep movin'. We're not gonna get rescued, bombed out or not, if we stand around fighting."

Nick scoffed furiously; this was already going to hell, and they hadn't even _spoken_ with the military. He started walking, ignoring the sound of Rochelle muttering to Ellis that "he was just a jerk so don't worry about what he says."

He glanced at Dal; the Hunter's face was completely obstructed by his hood, so Nick could even fathom was he was thinking about, if he was thinking at all. They made it over to the blown out part of the bridge and glanced down.

"That looks fairly dangerous." Coach observed, "We're gonna have to be careful, folks; one wrong step and someone could really hurt themselves."

He glanced up at the rest of the team, blinking when he saw that Nick wasn't standing beside them. Rochelle was glowering at the man's back as he carefully made his way down, swearing periodically at the burning hot cement.

"This shit is really hot." Nick observed with an air of sarcasm, "I hope I don't light myself on fire."

Ellis held back a chuckle, seeming to understand that Nick wasn't in the mood for anyone to be laughing for any reason whatsoever. Dal waited calmly for Nick to make it to the bottom before rearing back and making probably the longest jump they'd ever seen. He made it, tripping and catching himself by turning the landing into a forward roll. Nick raised his eyebrows as the Hunter stood up. The conman looked marginally impressed, bringing forth a smile from Dal. He seemed to recognize an expression of praise, no matter how slight it was.

"So," Rochelle spoke up blocking out the sun with one hand as he looked over the cemetery, "If we go that way… yea. Okay, you can put me down now."

Ellis lowered her to the ground, "Find a way?" She nodded.

"The place is crawling with those things though," She replied quickly as she picked up her gun. "So we'd better keep our guard up." Nick was already peering around the entrance gate, using the magnum he had retrieved from Dal to pick off anything and anyone that he saw.

"Are we ready yet?" He grumbled, glancing over his shoulder to receive his answer. Coach nodded solemnly, and he swiftly slid around the entrance, backing himself up against a wall and taking out whatever he hadn't seen earlier.

"Let's make this quick," He said sourly, "I already have a bad feeling about this place."

Dal lead the way again, pretending that he knew where he was going as he trotted a few inches in front of Nick. The conman did his poor best to keep his eyes off the names of the graves. Sure, he knew probably seven of the people who had been buried here, but that was completely beside the point.

The safe room was completely empty, save for a table with better weapons and more ammo than they had needed throughout their entire journey. Nick was happy enough to have his Scar back, just like Coach was fine with an automatic shotgun.

They camped out for a brief amount of time, going over the map of New Orleans that just so happened to be partially hidden under the ammo pile. Rochelle had spotted it and pulled it free of its restraints, opening it on the floor and going over it carefully with Coach.

_Kill all carriers!_

Nick stared at it for a long, painful moment. He didn't exactly know what a carrier was, but he had his assumptions to go by. A painful lump lodged itself in his throat, and he could only hope that they were completely immune.

He glanced down at Dal, who was sitting on his haunches beside him, staring at the door quietly. He didn't know what was going through the Hunter's head, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to know either.

"Ready to go?" Ellis had been watching Rochelle and Coach the entire time, and he quickly caught on when they straightened up and glanced towards the door. Rochelle smiled pessimistically.

"We're close," She said slowly, "But this map is…"

Coach shook his head, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. He smiled for real, "We'll be okay, Ro."

She nodded, looking completely shut down. Nick watched her carefully for a moment before walking past her and towards the door.

"Anybody out there?"

Ellis shook his head, "I killed 'em all."

Dal prodded the door impatiently for a moment as Nick unclasped all the locks and pull the bar off it. The sunlight was hotter than it had been earlier, suggesting to them that it was probably getting to be later in the afternoon. Nevertheless, they continued down the streets, picking off whatever came their way.

* * *

**A/N**

**This is probably the worst filler chapter I have ever written in all my life. Well, whatever. The next chapter is supposed to be Super Special Awesome Sauce, so be prepared to be WOWZA'd.  
**


	9. Forever n' Ever

**_IX_**

…

"Okay, guys," Nick started out the window at the ominous looking bridge, "Before we run over to the people that have been trying to kill us… do we want to talk about a Plan B?"

Ellis blinked at him, a blank expression on his face. He smiled nonetheless, "Nope!"

Rochelle shook her head with a condescending smile when Nick looked at her for assistance in pessimism, and Coach only raised an eyebrow. He sighed, glancing down at Dal, who was leaning on his leg. He'd been silent for the past several hours of their trip, only making a sound when necessary. Nick chuckled bitterly, "Well then I guess we'd better get going."

The others were smiling; probably inwardly laughing at his distress.

_Bastards_, he thought with a slight scowl. Nevertheless, it was Nick who pulled the bar on the safe room door and, closely followed by Dal, left the safe house first. They walked past what looked like a failed attempt at fencing off the area, where they discovered a body. But, it wasn't just any body. It was a body that was holding the radio that was likely going to patch them through to the military.

"So…" Nick said slowly, "Is this really going to be as easy as it looks?" He glanced around, looking for signs of anyone, infected or not. There were none, so he returned his gaze to the corpse and the radio.

"Fuck it," He grumbled, holding his breath as he bent down and picked up the radio, "Anybody there?"

There was a pause; a static-filled, mournful pause that made their stomachs churn with uneasiness.

"Sir…!" Alas, a voice! "That's coming from the bridge!"

Nick frowned deeply, "Yea. It is." He spoke, his voice lacking a certain amount of its usual confidence. Rochelle looked at him sideways, her eyes concerned. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye for only a split second. The soldiers on the other end seemed to be calling higher ups and such for directions. They could barely make out voices through the white noise, and they weren't even thinking about trying to translate.

"Bridge!" Nick winced slightly at the commanding tone, his eyes narrowing as he thought seriously about chucking the bastard radio into the water around them, "Are you immune?"

"… What?" He blinked - right, like he was supposed to know that. They'd been murdering people for the past two weeks; it wasn't like they'd paused at a local hospital for a blood test. Ever. He knew they weren't infected, but it wasn't like he was a doctor who specialized in rabid humans!

There was a brief pause, "Bridge, are you immune?"

Nick thought about that seriously, "I guess." He nonchalantly replied, sticking a hand in his pocket and appropriating a severely annoyed expression. The people on the other line were chatting on another frequency again.

"Negative," They replied, "Bridge, _are you immune_? Have you encountered the infected?"

"Yep," Was the simply reply. "We've encountered a lot of them."

The soldiers were muttering again. "Bridge, how man-…"

"There's four of us," Nick cut him off, talking quickly as an unhappy sound reached his ears, "I'm Nick, with me are Ellis, Rochelle, and Coach." He paused to glance around, using makeshift sign language to tell the others to watch their backs, because he could hear something unpleasant.

"Nick," a new voice replied, "There's one more extraction copter on the other side of the bridge your standing on. Whiskey Deltas have been confirmed, so be careful. We can only wait for you for an unspecified amount of time. We have room for all of you, so make this quick."

"Nick, look out!"

"Shit! We'll be right over!" He dropped the radio, ignoring the soldiers yelling to find out what had happened. He whirled around, attacking the infected that were coming over the fence from the safe room. No clue how they had managed to get through the first door, but it wasn't like they had time to make guesses.

"I'm hitting it!" Nick, in all his glory, fired at several oncoming infected and turned around briefly to smack the red button that would lower the bridge. The most incredibly annoying screeching sound cut through the air around them. Nick's head pounded from both the noise and a sudden rush of adrenaline.

"If we're goin, then let's go!" Ellis roared over the noise of the bridge slamming down. He started running across, Coach and Rochelle following them. Dal leapt onto a few messily parked cars, glancing back expectantly to Nick. The conman was already following, sprinting by and following the others.

The "Whiskey Deltas" were much more concentrated on the bridge than they had suspected. They had probably been aggravated by the sound of the contraption lowering, as they had been during their last encounter with the biker, Louis, and the girl, Zoey. He had almost forgotten their names.

He pulled out his magnum, reloading it fast and taking aim at the oncoming horde. Ellis was exhibiting his true nature as a hit-man, taking out almost everything that came near before it had a chance to inflict any damage on his friends. Coach and Rochelle were using their convenient melee weapons – axe and machete, respectively - to take care of anything that came too close.

Dal had run ahead, leaving a trail of shredded bodies behind for them to find. Nick's heart was hammering, but he was sure that it wasn't just because he was running as fast as he could, considering the circumstances. What if they didn't make it? What if someone fell behind?

He narrowed his eyes slightly, squinting ahead at oncoming movement.

"Tank!" He barked, bringing everyone to a standstill within seconds. Nick jogged over to Coach's side, grabbing the Molotov off his belt and holding the lighter to it. The Tank was moving a lot faster than he had thought; it appeared suddenly over the side of a bus, and Nick wasted no time throwing the makeshift grenade at it. The others were backing up beside him.

"There's a thingamajig over there!" Ellis shouted. Rochelle's hand wrapped around his right forearm, dragging him away from the Tank, though he ignored her as he continued to fire while tripping over his feet.

Something incredibly unstable-feeling reached his senses. The wood creaked under them as they sprinted across it, whatever it was called. The Tank followed them, still covered in fire. Coach was the last one off, running backwards and firing as he was pulled along by Ellis.

Not a moment later than they had hopped off the wooden planks, the entire thing collapsed under the weight of the massive Tank. With a mighty yell of fury, the beast fell to the water, likely drowning only moments later.

"Keep runnin'!" Ellis shouted, the sound of his voice missing only a marginal amount of its usual vigor. Without a second thought, they resumed their pace.

.

"There it is!" Coach boomed over the ringing in Nick's ears; he could hardly hear anything, his legs burning ferociously. He was beginning to trail behind, having already been forced to stop once so that he could save Ellis from a Jockey. While Ellis always had the energy to keep running, Nick wasn't quite feeling up to the whole 'sprinting until your legs go flying off' thing. Movement, once again, caught his eye, and he cursed, forcing out his voice to shout that he had spotted another Tank.

Shouting their own separate curses, Ellis and Rochelle managed to jump down onto a bus and get past the Tank before it could swat them into the ocean. Coach was slowing down, glancing over his shoulder at Nick to make sure he was alright.

"Just go!" Nick shouted to his unspoken words, "Hurry up!" His throat was burning, obviously disagreeing with his idea to be yelling at that time. He lowered his gaze, pumping his legs harder.

He heard a screech, and looked up in time to see the Tank lunging for him. Nick's legs stopped moving so fast, he hadn't thought it to be possible. He stumbled, continuing forward. Nick, understanding that he was probably about to die, wrote a quick will and ducked down under a fist so that he could keep going.

He glanced over his shoulder, clenching his teeth as the Tank continued running at him.

Suddenly, the ground was nowhere.

Then, the ground returned, only this time it smashed hard into his back. _Ah, yes… I was supposed to jump onto that bus._ The Tank seemed to remember the part that Nick had forgotten; it jumped onto the bus, preparing to jump down to his prey. The conman forced himself to his feet and ran around the large vehicle, continuing towards the chopper.

"Nick, hurry!" Rochelle's voice caught his attention; they were at the chopper, waiting for him to get on. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting a splotch of black on the Tank's face, darting around the monstrous amounts of muscle while slashing violently and tearing at the flesh. Dal would take care of the Tank, like he had in the past.

But of course, luck wasn't nearly so kind to him. He heard a scream; different from the rest. A scream of pain, and Nick couldn't stop himself from turning around to find Dal. The Hunter had slammed against the stone wall, and he was still trying to get up.

"NICK!" He turned back around, b_e safe!_ Keep running. The ground trembled beneath him as he ran down a wooden ramp. The chopper was beginning to take off, though he could see Coach and Rochelle's backs, shouting for the pilot to wait just a few seconds longer.

He was so close! Ellis extended the butt of his gun out the back of the chopper, practically hanging out of it as he extending it as far as was possible. At probably the perfect moment of insane timing, Nick jumped forward, reaching out to grab it. His finger tips had just grazed the surface of the metal when he saw Ellis' eyes widen. At the same time, a feeling of excruciating tightness seemed to appear out of nowhere around his body. He slammed back to the ground, using his one free hand to tug at the appendage wrapped around his throat. He was farther and farther away with every second. The Smoker's tongue slackened; free. Somewhere behind him, Rochelle and Coach used the last of their available ammo to defeat the Tank, and it collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Left behind.

By the time his vision adjusted after the dots had vanished, the chopper was so high in the sky; Nick knew there wasn't a chance. Not even if Dal jumped with all the Hunter-esque strength in his body. He wasn't going to make it out.

Ever.

* * *

**A/N**

**Eww, short as hell chapter. Well, whatever. Cliffhanger, folks. **

**Next chapter either tonight or tomorrow. I'll try to have it up ASAP.**

**Omfg nooo Niiiickk~~**


	10. Detached

**_X_**

…

_Ever_.

Everything was numb; his limbs detached from him and walked away impatiently, senses dulling to nothing as the world became no more than a deafening ringing in his ears. His vision was becoming blurry as he forgot to blink, only able to remember the one detail that was locking him in a brick-like shell.

_I'm never going to get out of here._

He couldn't feel it as his fists clenched tightly, his jaw locking as he clamped his teeth together. The sky was turning into a mixture of colors, a whirlpool of nothingness. Jets flying overhead, the noise of their engines completely blocked out by a steadily bubbling rage that burned through all his senses and nearly consumed him.

A slightly loud, miserable whimper pulled him back to reality.

_Dal?_ He slowly stood up, pulling himself off the ground; the infected had dispersed, it seemed. He couldn't see anyone around, so he had reason to assume that something had persuaded them to leave. Nick turned around, looking for the dark-clad Hunter, easy enough to spot. He was standing at that point, clutching the fence and doubled over in pain, one hand squeezing the fabric off his hoodie so tightly that Nick wondered if he had torn it yet.

He didn't have to think about it when he started walking over, the walk turning into a light jog as he called the Hunter. He couldn't hear his own voice; the racket in his head was too loud. Nick arrived at Dal's side, placing a hand on the Hunter's back gingerly and speaking to him. His tone was gentle, calm; remain calm, don't panic, we'll find a way out, we'll be okay, it doesn't hurt that bad, c'mon hang in there, let's get away from here.

Jets were circling overhead, the noise calling a horde of infected. Nick wrapped an arm around Dal's back and took the hand that was holding the fence. He pried the infected away from his only support and guided him towards an abandoned tank. The military assault vehicle was large and sturdy; it would protect them for now.

It was difficult to get Dal onto it, though easy to get him inside. The Hunter collapsed to the metal floor, curling up into himself as Nick closed the hatch. The sound of bombings reached them, and Nick clenched his fist. Remain calm.

He turned on his flashlight and went to Dal's side, unrolling the Hunter out on the floor beneath them. Lay on your back, he commanded. The infected understood, though it was easy to tell how much pain he was in.

Nick muttered to him that he was extremely lucky, because the damage seemed to be minimal. His ribs were broken, and it wasn't hard to tell. He had pulled the kid's sweater up, exposing the rashes and scars that covered his stomach. It was actually hard to decipher between rashes and bruising from the Tank's blows at first, but Nick was soon able to adapt to the meager amount of light.

Things were beginning to come back to him, slowly. His concentration returned as he examined Dal's chest, being as gentle as he possibly could. His hearing had returned, picking up on every single pained noise that came out of the Hunter's mouth. He could feel the familiar sensation of rippling shivers and clamminess on Dal's skin. The Hunter's reaction to pain was similar to a normal person's physiological response to a fever. Nick briefly wondered if it was possible that his body was trying to produce a response to the pain and not doing it probably because of the rabies virus.

It wasn't like he was a doctor, but it wasn't like he wasn't well educated either.

"Dal," His voice returned to him, "Try not to move, okay?" He muttered. The Hunter sniffled pitifully, "Don't take deep breaths. Just try to relax. It'll help; trust me."

_Trust me_.

The words tasted bitter on his mouth as a memory of a particularly twisted Halloween night resurfaced. He wished for amnesia.

Nick set his flashlight down on a surface that would allow the light to illuminate the entire tank. Now that he had calmed down, he could think about how he was supposed to get out of this hellhole.

The frustration came so fast, Nick wasn't prepared to control it. In a sudden fit of anger and near-hysteria, he turned and punched the nearest object; a computer monitor. It fractured and cracked under his knuckles, cutting into him as he swore angrily. He retracted his hand, ignoring the sensation of blood crawling on him.

_Crawling._

**No. Not _crawling_**_._

A shiver ran up his spine, and he ran a tentative hand through his hair. "How…!" He suddenly cracked, his voice holding a tone that he himself didn't recognize, "Fuck!" He raised his voice to a shout, startling the Hunter across the area from him. Dal had managed to pull himself into a sitting position, and the pain seemed to be subsiding.

"What the hell do I do _now_! Where else is there to go!" He whirled around, eyes searching for help; for something. Dal stared at him, silent, maybe frightened. Nick averted his gaze, lowering it to the floor and shaking his head. He all but collapsed backwards, leaning up against a metal wall stuck with screws and sliding to the floor.

"There's nowhere else to go." He muttered, "I may as well give up." He shut his eyes, rubbing his fingers against his lids and trying to bring out the solution. There was really nothing.

Warmth met with his senses, startling him slightly. He winced, raising his gaze as Dal wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly. The Hunter whimpered, nuzzling against the crook of Nick's neck. He was still shaking, probably in pain, maybe cold, maybe scared.

"Dal… I'm-…" he trailed off, completely forgetting what he had been about to say as a means of scolding him. He didn't even care. What did it matter if Dal suddenly turned on him and killed him? It wasn't like anyone would be waiting anxiously for him to get to a safe zone.

"Now what?" His whispered softly, his voice cracking from a certain amount of insanity and confusion. Dal squeezed him harder, and Nick sighed, wrapping an arm around his friend's back and returning the gesture of affection.

It'd been a long time since he'd had the option of hugging anyone. He'd never have guessed that his last hug would be with a Hunter, who, under normal circumstances, ought to have killed him.

The noise outside had died down to a low hum of infected snarling at one another as they beat each other to death. Nick lowered his hand from Dal's back and waited patiently for the Hunter to pull away, which he did.

"First," Nick said calmly, his mind beginning to process what he knew, "We need to get across the river and back into that city." He paused, thinking about it for only a split second, "I'm gonna need to find a boat… It doesn't need to be a yacht, but I'd prefer one of a decent size."

Dal was watching him carefully, nodding slowly with what looked like understanding. Nick groped around the dark for his AK-47, cursing softly.

"It ran out of ammo on the bridge," He recalled, "I remember now."

"For now, I need to find something that I can swing, and I can keep my magnum in case I come across some ammo on the way out of here."

Dal glanced around the area, crawling over to a darker corner of the tank, and returning quickly with an axe, the handle stained red with blood. Nick praised his Hunter, patting his head gently and smiling.

"Now that we have a means of defense and offense," He said slowly, "We just need something that'll take us across the river. Should we wait a little longer, or go now?"

Dal blinked, tilting his head slightly and listening. He made a hand gesture that signified "waiting" to Nick. The conman nodded sitting back and taking in a deep breath. This would work out. They would find a way out, one way or another.

_We? _He thought, eyes on Dal, _I can't bring him with me…_

A pang of guilt reached his chest, but Nick quickly brushed it away. He would cross that bridge when he came to it. The Hunter was scooting to his side, and Nick simply allowed Dal to cuddle up against him, as he always did.

.

It had been a couple of days since he'd been utterly abandoned in New Orleans. Now off the island and back to the mainland US, Nick was feeling beaten. Defeated. Lost. Unwanted. Well, he'd never really felt _wanted_, so that was a ridiculous thing to dwell on in the first place.

They'd walked probably four miles in four hours, using the remaining daylight to get to the nearest abandoned town. Nick didn't know what he was supposed to do now that he was completely screwed. He had a feeling that he wanted to go back north, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea. All he did know was that the Canadians probably liked Americans a tiny bit more than Mexicans. So he was probably going to go north.

They'd found a little tiny town, with small houses. It was practically a trailer park. Nick was feeling adventurous, however, so they eventually found space in one of the trailers. There were two bedrooms; they were sharing one, because Dal was the biggest brat Nick had ever met. Worse than his niece. Worse than his brother. Almost as bad as his father.

Upon the disappearance of the sun, Nick clambered into the bed, sliding up against the wall and nearly crawling up it as Dal attached himself to his back. His face contorted into an agonized grimace. If the others had been there, they would've been laughing hysterically until Dal woke up and shut the door. Then they would've laughed even more.

"You know," Nick knew he was talking to himself at that point, but it wasn't really a concern. Dal stirred slightly in his sleep, cuddling up against Nick's back. It was utterly ridiculous for them to be sharing such a small bed, but Dal apparently 'couldn't sleep' without cuddling.

"When I said 'fine,' I meant you could share a bed with me. Not 'hey, let's pretend we're a fucking couple.' Because incase you couldn't tell, I'm definitely not as gay as you." Dal let out a heavy, obnoxiously sleepy-sounding sigh against the back of Nick's neck, and the conman subsequently rolled over and shoved him off the bed.

With a yelp of surprise, the Hunter slammed to the ground. He sat up suddenly, glowering at Nick, who was easily feigning sleep. In an apparent decision for revenge, he all but jumped on the uninfected man and snuggled even closer than he had before, burying his face into Nick's chest and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

Nick frowned deeply, "Really, Dal? _Really_?"

It was going to be a long, long night.

* * *

**A/N**

**You know, I actually think this chapter is a lot shorter than the one before it... Sorry.**

**The next chapter, or at least the first half of it, is gonna be relatively slow. I'm not sure what I want to have happen to make for the next actually crescendo in the story, so it might also be a couple of days before I update again. :( Sorry about all the waiting, I'm doing my best!**

**And for anyone who reads Distorted Reflection, please know that I _am_ attempting to sort out the next chapter. I'll try to have it up before March, no guarantees.**

**(Edit: I lied, it's like, 200 words longer!)  
**


	11. Heebie Jeebies

**EDIT! Nick's driving a Hyundai Santa Fe, NOT a Sonata! Sorry, got my vehicles mixed up.**

**_

* * *

XI_**

…

Nick wasn't happy.

He had come to realize the morning after that he'd fractured his knuckles. They weren't misplaced, or shattered, but they were _broken_. His hand had swelled up like a balloon, and the cuts and bruises turned a nasty shade of purple. Nick's hand had swelled up so badly that he hadn't noticed the agony until he'd try to swing an axe into the neck of an infected and nearly cried in pain. He'd already tightly wrapped it in medical tape, hoping that the compression would make the swelling go down. He needed to get some kind of heat compress to put on it at least for a little while.

Whether it worked or not, Nick was ambidextrous. He could _use_ his left hand fine, but he was so used to firing with his right that he kept grabbing his gun and trying to fire, and then recalling that he couldn't move his fingers. Dal was doing most of the work.

"Jesus fucking_ fuck_." He snarled in frustration. His hand was beginning to burn painfully. In a fit of rage, he grabbed the knife he'd picked up and used it to assist him in tearing off the wrapping. He would deal with it later, even though the tingling sensation that usually accompanied numbness was starting to irritate him. Maybe he should just cut it off and attach a chainsaw to it. That'd be something.

Dal was staring at him blankly. He hadn't been making as many funny noises as he usually did. Nick glanced at him and sighed heavily before continuing forward. He was looking for a car, and so far he hadn't found anything even remotely similar to a legitimate dealership that he would be able to make use of. Most of the cars that he'd come across had been completely demolished, and the one illegitimate dealership he'd found had been ransacked, the only vehicles there being the ones that didn't function. Needless to say, he was a bit frustrated.

"This whole walking thing," He grumbled, "gets old after a while."

Abruptly, he stopped. Dal paused beside him, looking equally startled. The sound of growling; it reminded him significantly of a Hunter, but Nick wasn't sure if it actually was one. It was quiet, and soft, but there was a certain amount of menacing undertone to it. Nick looked around, thinking about what Ellis had said in Dublin.

_ "It sounds like growlin'… but like… different."_

And it _was_, and Nick wondered if this noise was what Ellis had been hearing. He glanced down at Dal, whose expression was enough to make him worried all by itself. Clearly, he could hear it as well, and clearly it was scaring the wits out of him.

Nick tapped his Hunter's shoulder to bring him out of his trance, "Keep your guard up. Whatever that is, it's not happy to see us."

Dal nodded agreeably, scanning the perimeter carefully before following as Nick started forward.

The noise didn't go away, not even after they had been walking for approximately 15 minutes, following directions from a huge poster board on the side of the road. It was supposed to lead them to a car dealership eventually. Nick was definitely more interested in getting a decent truck than a super fast and powerful car, mainly because he knew that the chances of running into infected on the road was more than likely, and he knew that smaller cars probably couldn't handle hitting humans bodies at high speeds without spinning out.

As the sign had indicated, it was a lot of various kinds of cars, imported and not. They didn't have activated alarms, thankfully. Nick knew how to hotwire a car, but he also knew that it would be easier in case of emergency if he had a key.

He approached the largest vehicle in the entire lot; a Hyundai Santa Fe. He glanced through the interior and deemed the car worthy of his journey.

He just needed the key. Luckily, the windows had been smashed already, so there was no issue of an alarm. He and Dal crept into the building, glass crunching under their feet. He was extremely lucky; there were only three vehicles left in the lot, and they were spread out. He wasn't sure what make and model the third was, only that it was a foreign car judging from the lights.

The safe where the keys were kept had also been ransacked. There were several keys left, but Nick happened to recall the numbers on its license plate, so finding the right one wasn't hard.

He glanced down at Dal, who was being even quieter than normal.

"Before we go back out there," He asked slowly, "Mind telling me what the problem is? You've been awfully…"

A painfully familiar sound reached his ears, and he barely had time to turn around and spot the Charger before Dal had picked him up and jumped out the windows, somehow managing to dart past the huge Charger. There was a loud, piercing shriek that certainly hadn't come from the Hunter carrying him; it was an enraged noise. A deafening roar of infected reached Nick's ears and he cursed.

"Dal, _lan_-…" before he could finish telling the Hunter to put him down so he could open fire on the approaching horde, Nick hit the ground hard. He rolled for a brief second before coming to a stop, picking himself up and groping around blindly for his magnum, which had fallen out of his holster upon impact with the pavement. He found it in time to be kicked in the stomach, and then the back.

He could hear Dal shrieking, and he managed to take aim for a brief enough second to momentarily clear the area around him. The infected fell hard and fast, allowing Nick to take the opportunity to stand up while the others tripped and scrambled over their fallen comrades in haste to attack.

He couldn't see Dal; he could hardly see anything past the flailing limbs as he started shooting, firing at everything and anything that moved. The shrieking was getting louder, more panicked; he still didn't know where his Hunter was.

The infected in front of him finally fell, and he ignored the fists against his back for just long enough to spot Dal, being attacked by a fellow Hunter. The assailant was bigger, and he looked stronger as his claws dug into Dal's sides and tore at his chest. Dal was all but bawling, trying to push the other Hunter off. Nick turned around and punched someone in the face with his uninjured hand before pausing completely to take aim for the new Hunter.

Dal's eyes wandered over to Nick for the briefest moment, a look of horror crossing his features. He shrieked as loudly as his lungs would allow, thrashing violently as the Charger slammed into his comrade.

He saw Dal's eyes widen and he heard him scream. Nick whirled around just in time to be slammed into it. The Charger dragged him for was seemed like ages, ramming his smaller, useless arm into a car hard enough to stop him in his tracks. He stumbled backwards, dropping Nick as the car teetered on its side and rolled the rest of the way over. The conman wheezed, clutching his chest with his free hand, the other still tightly clutching his pistol.

He rolled over, attempting to crawl away from further damage, but the Charger noticed and reached for him with a snarl, grabbing him with his massive arm. Thick, meaty fingers wrapped around Nick's left leg and squeezed as he was wrenched off the ground. He cursed, managing to take aim just long enough to empty what was left of his ammo into the Charger's abdomen, though it didn't help the situation. The thing was barely fazed, only looking angrier as he lifted his arm about and prepared to slam Nick down with all his strength, a blow that would likely kill the conman instantly.

A shriek met his ears, followed by a furious roar from the Charger. Nick hit the ground, curling into a ball and covering his head with his hands as he tried to regain his bearings, unsuccessfully.

He heard a loud thud, and the sound of something wet splattering the ground. The barking of infected reached him again, and Nick didn't dare move. His heart hammered in his throat, making him nauseous as a pounding headache rolling in on him like a wave.

The noise began to die down, eventually going completely silent. Nick unraveled himself slowly, propping himself up on his elbow and bringing himself to a sitting position. He was shaking, a throbbing pain erupting in his leg, making him clench his teeth. It wasn't broken, but the grip had clearly been strong enough to do some decent damage. He wasn't going to be doing much walking for a while.

Finally, he looked around, shaking slightly from the adrenaline rush coupled with the start from the sudden war. The ground was coated in a thin painting of blood, splatters of the crimson liquid running through cracks in the pavement. The bodies of infected lay scattered around the lot, their bodies mutilated and torn apart.

"Dal?" He croaked, his eyes scanning the motionless corpses as he searched for the familiar blue. "Dal!" Nick could feel the first signs of dread creeping up into his chest. He crossed through the bodies, rounded them, walked around them, but didn't find anything. Nick took in a shaky breath and jogged over to the dealership, ignoring the crunch of glass under of his shoes.

He searched the vault where they'd found the keys, the desks, under the desks, under the show-car, inside the show-car, back into the vault; nothing. Nick walked back outside and checked his Santa Fe; nothing. Under the Santa Fe; nothing. Behind it; nothing. At that point, he was scared to move, though he wouldn't have admitted it. He didn't know what had happened to his axe and his magnum was completely out of ammo. He had nothing to restock it with, and there weren't any spare weapons lying around for him to use.

If he got attacked, he would _die_.

Nick clenched his fists, taking in a shuddering breath as he looked around. The sun was beginning to set; the infected were probably going to be wandering around nearby soon. A gust of wind blew over the lot, throwing around the stench of blood and death. His stomach lurched, but Nick ignored as he started towards the bodies yet again, sifting through them with his eyes for a third time.

Still nothing. Nick swallowed down a nervous lump in his throat and returned to the dealership, walking inside and finding himself in the vault again. He'd wait through the night. If Dal was okay, he'd come back before dawn broke. And if he didn't come back, Nick would find a way to keep going without him.

His stomach twisted into a knot as he thought that, leaning against the far corner of the room and sitting down. He wasn't exactly interested in traveling across the country in a Santa Fe, by himself and unarmed. He hated that he'd come to rely on Dal for both company and assistance in defending himself, but that didn't change the facts.

It was the same with Coach, Rochelle, and Ellis. He'd found them all painfully annoying and even more irritating, but now that they were _gone_ he found himself craving their idiocies and quirks.

Nick wondered if they were okay. He wondered how they were doing, and if the military camps had turned out to be legitimate in protection. He wished that he felt as safe as they probably did.

Then again, in the presence of military, Nick would probably never have felt more vulnerable. If they had known what they were doing, this entire mess would never have happened in the first place.

Nick drew his knees up to his chest as exhaustion began to overcome his senses. He crossed his arms over his knees and rested his head on them, letting out another shaky sigh. If he had been Rochelle, he'd probably being crying from frustration. At that point, Nick was too nervous to make a sound of distress, knowing exactly what kind of monsters it would attract.

He could picture Dal on his eyelids; he'd seen the kind of damage he'd taken from that other Hunter. If he was left untended, he'd bleed out. Dal wasn't the sturdiness infected Nick had ever come across. What if Dal _couldn't_ make it back? He'd die alone and scared, and probably worried about the conman. Dal was always worried about him. The Hunter adored him, despite how Nick tended to treat him when he was upset about something.

Apparently, not even a zombie apocalypse could make him stop being an asshole.

.

There was a very small sliver of sunlight making its way into the vault. It created a slice of brightness against the metal wall a few feet away from Nick's barely conscious form. He was tired, finding that he hadn't been able to get any sleep during the night, and if he had it'd been so brief that it wasn't counted for anything. He shivered; it was _freezing_, though that couldn't just been because he hadn't eaten in a couple of days and he was completely worn out.

Dal wasn't beside him, sleeping against his shoulder or curled up by his hip. It was like a blow to the head, worse than the one he'd gotten from the Charger. Dal probably wasn't coming back; he was really alone.

Nick slowly managed to pick himself up off the ground, his knees screaming in protest, especially the one injured by the Charger. His body creaked as he started walking towards the light at the entrance of his little safe-spot, lifting up a hand to block out the blinding sunlight. No one was around and there seemed to be a few more bodies than he remembered. He wondered briefly if a Tank had come through and killed any stragglers that had been late to the party. He was lucky to have been sleeping if such a thing had happened.

Nick stared at the ground as he left the dealership, his mind in a complete fog. He pulled the key out of his body and pressed the unlock button. The Santa Fe beeped cheerfully as he approached it. Nick was sorely tempted to just sit tight in the dealership lot _forever_ and hope that eventually Dal would come back, or he'd get pummeled to death. Either or would be fine with him.

He reached the car, one hand lifting to grasp the handle of the door. Being alone was definitely taking its toll, as Nick was seriously contemplating whether it would be too painful an experience for him to try and find a Tank or a Witch that could possibly kill him.

He wanted to at least find a body, so that he could be certain that Dal wasn't going to be looking for him and think he'd been abandoned.

At the same time, Nick knew he was in no situation to be looking for Dal, because he was still unarmed and he was still a bit banged up from yesterday's war.

But what if Dal was fine and he just hadn't waited long enough for him to come back?

Maybe he should get in the car, get comfortable and wait for another couple of hours. He wasn't in a hurry; it wasn't like he had anywhere to be.

Nick nodded to himself, pulling open the door and getting into the car. He would be safer in there than he would be out in the open. Luckily, the windows of the car were well tinted; no infected would be able to see him from outside of the vehicle. Nick leaned back in the seat, getting comfortable and staring out the windshield.

His eyes slipped shut. Nick didn't bother to fight off the sleep that so badly wanted to join him in the car. He hadn't slept all night, so it wouldn't hurt to get a little shut-eye before he started driving across the country.

The slumber didn't last long. He slept for maybe half an hour before he was rudely awakened by absolutely nothing. Nick straightened up in his seat, looking around out the windows a bit nervously. When he had been a kid, he'd had a tendency to wake up seconds before something bad happened, whether it was his parents screaming downstairs over the sound of shattering glass, or a certain psychotic someone coming upstairs to play a prank that would keep him up for days afterwards.

Whatever it had been, Nick always woke up before something bad happened. The ground wasn't trembling, and he didn't hear any crying. Not an infected in sight and it was eerily quiet. Nick swallowed a lump in his throat and leaned back in his seat again, trying to push the anxiety to the back of his mind and not succeeding.

_"Come on, Nikki! I wanna show you something!" He was being pulled along by the older boy. It was dark, and Nick was barely awake from fatigue. He hadn't slept well the previous night, having been kept up nearly the entire night by his parents yelling. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned._

_"What is it?" He mumbled, looking up at the green-clad back in front of him. The older boy glanced over his shoulder, a smile on his face that obviously meant bad news._

_Nick dug his heels in when he saw where he was being led, "I'm **not** going down there." He ground out, attempting to take a step back. The grip on his wrist didn't let up, instead tightening so that he couldn't go anywhere._

_"Why not? You chicken?" Nick shook his head, trying to pry the older kid's fingers away from his arm._

_"I told you, I'm no-…" Scott wrenched him forward, nearly throwing him to the ground. Nick would've started yelling at him, but it was nearing one in the morning, and he didn't want to wake up their father. Then they'd both be dead for being out of bed._

_Scott pressed a finger to his lips and grinned evilly, dragging his little brother down the stairs. "Just come on, you whiny brat!"_

_"Scott-…!" He hissed, still trying to free himself. The door shut behind them and Nick tensed visibly, his teeth clenching together. "S-Scott, I don't **want** to! I told you I'm still tired from yester-…"_

_He froze, his entire body going stiff as the familiar crawling feeling washing over him. It wouldn't be the first time that Scott dragged Nick into the darkness and poured a jar of spiders on him, nor would it be the last. One would've thought that, after a while, the younger brother would've stopped allowing himself to be dragged out of bed._

_He started to cry simultaneously with his screaming._

**_Creepy crawly…_**

Nick's eyes fluttered open, the first thought coming to mind being a curious wonder if Scott was still alive. He shuddered, pushing the memories further and further back as he sat up straight and looked around again. Anything to get his mind off the schizoid sensation that was making him sick.

Nick pushed open the door of the car and all but fell out of it, taking a few steps forward before doubling over and dry heaving at the gravel. Nothing would come up; not when he hadn't eaten in so long, but the taste of acidic stomach juices still filled his mouth as he spit on the ground. He shivered, rubbing his upper arms and instinctively running a hand through his hair. Nick briefly hoped that Scott was still alive so that he could kill him slowly.

He glanced around himself again, his eyes falling on the steadily decaying corpses. Their rotting bodies hadn't even begun to make him sick, and yet the image of spiders made him want to die.

Nick's eyes grazed the surface, stopping on a particularly still infected, sitting upright and staring at the sky blankly. He wore a deep blue hoodie with tape wrapped around his arms. The hood was down, revealing a mop of messy, blood-caked black hair. He looked dead to the world, but Nick could just barely see his body shifting ever so slightly with every shallow breath.

He started walking towards the Hunter, picking up the pace until he was nearly running. He slowed down, came to a stop a few feet away. Something was off. He didn't care.

Nick reached out and tapped Dal's shoulder. The Hunter turned to face him, looking surprised to see him. His eyes widened, and Nick could see the anxiety that had been eating him ever since they'd been separated, even if it had only been for a maximum of twenty-four hours. He wondered if Dal could also see the relief in his eyes, because he wasn't holding anything back.

If he was Rochelle, he'd have been crying from happiness.

* * *

**A/N**

**HOLY SHIT LONG CHAPTER. 5 pages in Microsoft Word. O_o  
**

**I lied. This chapter is a lot more action-packed and interesting than I had thought it would be. In case you couldn't tell, Scott is Nick's non-canon older brother. He was considered the good kid when he and Nick were growing up; he never got in trouble and blamed everything on Nick in a very convincing manner. He'll come into play, along with his spiders, later in the story. In fact, he might show up within the next 2-3 chapters.**

**The reason Dal ran away(I'm tell you this now because otherwise you'll never find out) was because he's the one who killed all the infected in a rather rabid frenzy. He scared himself and ran away because he was afraid he'd hurt Nick. And when he came back and couldn't find Nick, he assumed that Nick had either left without him or gotten dragged away and killed.**

**Finally, I want to clarify something; Nick is _not_ afraid of spiders or bugs, or the dark. He's afraid of the feeling of bugs crawling on him. The actual critters don't bother him, but he cannot stand to have them on him. This will also come into play later in the story.**


	12. Just A Little Unwell

***Going through and editing! Read back a little bit, because I wrote in the wrong car. Nick's driving a Santa Fe, NOT a Sonata! My bad!**

**

* * *

_XII_**

…

He'd only stopped in a convenience store for a few minutes after getting on the road. The little gas station in Jackson that he'd come across had held all the supplies he'd been hoping for. Nick picked up an atlas of the entire country, and with Dal's help he stocked up on food for their journey. He hadn't been eating much since he'd been left behind in New Orleans, but he knew that Dal would only last so long. As an infected, he didn't eat anyway. And that was bad.

"Last time we got on the main highway," Nick said calmly, "We were on 16 and there were miles of parked cars in our way." He glanced at Dal to see if the Hunter was listening. He seemed to be hanging on to Nick's every word, "If this is going to be the way I'm thinking, then I can easily guess that all the interstates and main highways are going to be packed with cars. Our best bet is routes and back roads to avoid all of that."

Dal nodded, "I hope you don't get car sick, because people tell me I'm a car accident waiting to happen." He smirked lightly, "Anyway, it seems like our best bet would be…" He traced the map with his middle finger, clicking his tongue as he figured their best route.

"I'm going to stop a few times along the way to go over this map so that I can memorize the way." Nick had traveled through every state in the country, with the exception of Virginia, and he had been through Georgia and the Carolina's multiple times. He'd never been a big fan of the west coast, hence why he'd never actually traveled very fast past the Mississippi. He did have a habit of avoiding Atlantic City, entirely because he wasn't interested in accidentally running into his parents or brother. It was truly ironic that he would be heading home in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

He shuddered, hoping that his parents and brother had died or become unrecognizable infected. He didn't want to see them ever again.

_Especially Scott,_ he thought bitterly.

Dal tapped his leg and Nick glanced over at him, "Oh yea. Let's go." He turned the key and the engine came to life instantly, lights flickering on. The gas was completely full, so he would be able to travel quite a few hours. They'd stayed the night in Jackson, sleeping in the car. It was bright and early in the day; he had plenty of time to cover a lot of ground.

Dal didn't like the car; he was constantly tense and especially didn't like anything remotely similar to a curve. Nick was trying to be easy with his driving, but Dal was like a cat that really just _didn't_ like moving without his feet doing the walking.

At least the Hunter wasn't freaking out like some cats did.

.

"Maybe there's some gas in this station," Nick grumbled as he pulled over beside one of the pumps and clambered out of the car. Dal had learned to effectively open and close the doors, though Nick had already decided that the young infected was _not_ going to drive his car – _ever_. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dal; it was just that he didn't trust his attention span.

As usual, Dal positioned himself in a spot where he would be able to see anything and everything that happened and stood guard while Nick got the pump working. Luckily, this one was still functioning properly. Nick glanced over his shoulder, spotting Dal easily. He had developed an eye for the Hunter, to the point where he could probably look through a crowd of infected and spot him without trouble or hesitation.

"Dal," He called, catching the Hunter's attention, "I'll be okay out here; why don't you go inside and see if you can find anything useful?" Dal tilted his head curiously, "Like, medical supplies, water, food… you know, the likes?"

He seemed to understand with more specific directions. Nick watched as the Hunter's eyes swept the area once more, looking nervously at his conman, "If something happens, you'll know about it."

This seemed to only slightly reassure Dal, as he crept into the busted out window of the convenience store and disappeared. Nick sighed, returning his gaze to the pump.

_The gas tank in this thing must be massive…_ He thought with a slight frown. He glanced over his shoulder at the store, a bad feeling pitting itself in his gut. Dal had been looking paler than normal, and his movements had become a bit sluggish. It was probably just fatigue; he'd been doing a lot of late nights recently.

He habitually replaced the pump in its spot and glanced to the store again. Dal was taking a ridiculously long time. He started towards the small building, listening carefully for any sign of a struggle.

As he had suspected; the sound of low growling reached him, interrupted by a sudden screech of surprise. Nick all but jumped through the window, pulling out his newly acquired pistol.

He didn't bother calling the Hunter's name, instead scanning the top of the shelves for movement. Third aisle, he could see a cloud of putrid green smoke filtering into the air. He heard a panicked cry, followed by an irate snarl. He wasted no time running around to the other side of the aisle and coming up behind the Smoker.

Dal had dug his foot into the ground and was leaning back while trying to free his arms. The Smoker tightened his grip and took a step forward, never noticing as Nick came up behind him silently and took aim, firing directly into the back of his mutated throat. He seized up, every muscle in his body tightening and twitching for a brief second before he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Dal fell backwards once the grip had slackened, looking startled. Nick walked over to his side and extended a hand, a scowl on his face. Dal seemed to understand that he was in trouble, though Nick didn't bother to snap at him.

He helped the Hunter gather the rest of the supplies, keeping an eye out especially for any more Special Infected that might take interest in the Hunter. He wasn't able to find any food, but there was a 24 pack of Poland Spring Water that Dal carried out to the car for him while he stocked up on medical supplies. It was amazing that so many people had stopped to grab food and water, and despite the known danger of the infected, hadn't bothered to pick up anything for their likely accumulating injuries.

Nick heard a fairly upset and rather noisy whine from Dal. He sighed heavily and took what he had outside.

The Hunter was frustrated; he didn't know how to get the sliding side door open. Nick raised his eyebrows as he tried and failed to hold back his laughter. He joined Dal at the Santa Fe's side and demonstrated how to open the door. He looked positively miserable at the idea that he hadn't been able to figure it out on his own.

"Its fine, Dal," he said with a chuckle, "I've never taught you how to use this door."

That seemed to make him feel a bit better, though he was still pouting. Nick set the water down on the floor of the vehicle and organized the medical things on the seat. As he was doing that, Dal clambered into his seat in the front and waited for him.

_He should be all proud of himself for being able to open any doors. There isn't another infected in this world that can._ Nick shut the door and joined Dal in the SUV, glancing over at him. He still looked pale, and for some reason Nick could see a ridiculous amount of exhaustion on his face.

"Hey," He reached out and tapped the Hunter's shoulder. Dal looked up at him, blinking blankly, "How come you weren't able to get that Smoker before he got you? Hunters are supposed to be faster."

Dal frowned, looking down at his lap. He shrugged mutely, and Nick sighed, "Buckle your seatbelt." The Hunter obeyed, and Nick started the car.

"If something was wrong," Nick began as they drove out of town and back onto 13 and picking up the speed. He glanced briefly at Dal, who was staring at him blankly, and sighed, "If something was wrong, would you find a way to tell me?"

Dal was staring at him like he had grown an extra head. Nick scowled at the road ahead of him, watching out of the corner of his eye as the Hunter nodded. He understood that Nick knew something was up.

_Yea, but_, the conman thought uncertainly, _maybe he doesn't **know** that something's wrong._

It wouldn't be surprising for Dal to be completely tuned-out when it came to his body, considering the known fact that he had rabies. If he was getting sick, then Nick would have to stop to treat him for a day or two. He followed a slightly turn as he considered the idea of temporarily stopping to give Dal a quick check up, but he didn't want to stop in a spot where they wouldn't be able to find a house to hole up in should it be necessary.

"Get some sleep," Nick suddenly said, "You haven't been doing enough sleeping lately. If you get sick, I'll have to stop to take care of you. So let's just go ahead and nip this in the bud."

Sometimes, he felt like Dal's father, and other times his mother. Dal was getting comfortable in his seat, practically sinking into the cushion as his eyes closed. Despite the fact that the young Hunter had only been looking off for a few hours, Nick was already feeling a pit of worry, if not dread, boiling in his chest.

The evening had taken on a whole new approach to the idea of darkness. It was pitch black, and Nick had his low beams on; the last thing he wanted was to attract something big that he couldn't run over. Dal had gotten worse since they'd left Grove Hill, his face taking on a greenish pallor. Nick had been forced to completely halt the car at one point while the Hunter stumbled onto the side of the road and heaved at the ground, spitting up the bottle of water that Nick had forced him to drink.

There was a city that Nick was relatively familiar coming up in a few miles; Macon. He'd spent a few short months living there with his first wife, Sarah. He wondered if her well-sized house was still standing. Sarah had inherited millions from her grandparents, and thus had become a snob shortly after Nick had been introduced. Either way, she lived in a nice house on the outskirts of the city, luckily on the side that Nick was coming in from.

He could hear Dal's teeth chattering. They had been doing that on and off for a few minutes; Nick reached over and turned the heat onto full blast. The vehicle heated up quickly, and he could hear Dal shifting slightly in his half-consciousness.

"Here we are," he muttered to himself, slowing the vehicle down significantly as he spotted the familiar white pillars that framed the driveway. Nick pulled up to the driveway and glanced down the well-populated streets. When he had been married to her, Sarah's house hadn't had this many neighbors. Either way, it was nice to know that he wouldn't have to go far for more supplies. He could see larger buildings just a little ways down the road. The trees that had once sheltered Sarah's house were gone, leaving a majestic looking palace behind.

It wasn't really a palace, but it was a big house. And compared to where Nick had been sleeping for the past several weeks, it was the equivalent of a palace. The conman glanced over at Dal, who was barely awake and staring at the fence. He had a look on his face that made Nick worry, but he brushed the thoughts aside quickly.

"Hey," He said, pulling the Hunter's attention away from the ominous fence, "I'm going to go and open the fence. You stay right here, okay?" The kid nodded, glancing around the area nervously.

The air was eerily quiet compared to the last time Nick had been in Georgia. Or perhaps it was just where they had been in Georgia. Savannah hadn't had that many people, but that amusement park had probably housed more infected than thought possible.

Then again, it was still odd because Macon wasn't Savannah; Macon was a city, with a metropolitan and everything.

Deciding it would be best to put those thoughts aside and simply bless his luck, Nick walked over to the fence to glance it over. Thankfully, it wasn't wrapped up in chains, only held shut by gravity. He pushed each side of the gate open and propped rocks against them to keep them there. He glanced around briefly; it was still quiet, but that wasn't particularly making him feel any better.

He got back into the car, where Dal was still sleeping. He put it into drive and pressed gently on the gas, accelerating up the slight incline. Nick got back out of the car once he had parked it again, walking around to Dal's side of the Santa Fe and opening his door. The key was already shoved deeply into Nick's pocket, where it would likely stay for the next couple of nights.

Dal opened his eyes and sluggishly turned to look at Nick, who was reached around him to unbuckle his seatbelt, "We're staying here for a couple of nights."

The Hunter didn't give him a reaction; he was getting worse fast. Nick beckoned him, stepping just far enough away to give Dal room to clamber out of the vehicle. "Dal?" The kid wasn't responding to his words in any way, only staring at the conman with glassy eyes. Nick took a step forward, rejoining him at the side of the car. He didn't move other than slowly allowing his eyes to slip shut again.

Nick sighed, the sound coming out nervous. Despite his reservations, he leaned into the car and proceeded to drag his Hunter pal out of the vehicle, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Dal, come on," he grunted, "At least open your eyes."

He could feel Dal tensing up against him, and it was easy to notice the sudden decrease in the weight he was carrying when Dal put his weight into his legs. He whimpered, but Nick tried to ignore it as he guided him to the front door. The key was in mailbox, and Nick took a few seconds to retrieve it and unlock the door. He had no idea why Sarah had taken the time to lock up her house, but he was thankful for it. It would prove to be somewhat like a fortress, thanks to the barred downstairs windows. She had been extremely paranoid.

That had probably been Nick's fault, though.

* * *

**A/N**

**Semi-filler chapter! This chapter was hard, and dull to write. I don't expect you lot to love it at all. I'm fending off writer's block, so if I don't update again within a couple days, don't be surprised. I'm doing my best!**

**Oh jeez! What's wrong with Dal! Any ideas?**


	13. ScrubADubDub

**_XIII_**

…

Nick wasn't happy.

He had come to discover that the cause of Dal's sudden illness was a certain lacking of wound treatment. When he was fighting to defend himself every waking second of the day, Nick had a tendency to forget so-called minor things. Dal had forgotten as well and as a result he was burning with a fever and barely conscious as Nick leaned him against the counters while filling the massive tub with warm water.

Needless to say, the kid was going to get a scrubbed. Likely at the bottom of the tub.

Injuries that he had received as far back at the swamp were trying their hardest to heal while fending off the putrid bacteria and the newer ones recently acquired at the car dealership lot were looking like they wanted to fester. Nick had somehow managed to get Dal changed into a pair of swim shorts (likely his, because Sarah was a pack-rat) after peeling the duct tape off. His Hunter hadn't wanted to ditch the clothes, so Nick had plans to wash them after he was done washing Dal.

The tub was full; now he just needed to pick up Dal and drop him in the water. He already had the feeling that this was going to be a horrible experience.

"Dal," He called unenthusiastically. The Hunter seemed to already be feeling better since Nick had doused his wounds in peroxide and every kind of antibiotic cream he'd come across in Sarah's house. The incredible sleep he'd been getting was probably helping as well; his fever had gone down, and he was more alert than he'd been the previous night, when they'd first arrived.

The Hunter opened his eyes tiredly and yawned. He hummed. Nick cocked his head towards the tub. Dal didn't move.

"You won't drown in it. It's not deep enough." That didn't seem to make him feel any better. Nick rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing Dal's arm tightly and putting forth all his strength to get the Hunter up. Of course, as luck would have it, Dal's strength left him in the same instant that Nick was putting forth all of his.

When he resurfaced from the water, he was drenched, and furious. Dal was screaming and crying and trying to free himself from Nick's iron grip so that he could get out of the tub. The stupid kid was lucky the tub was huge, because otherwise Nick would likely had broken his neck on the side of it.

The water didn't deter Nick in any way. He adjusted his position and all but pinned down Dal in an effort to get him wet. The piercing sound coming out of Dal's throat was deafening, but once again, Nick wouldn't be put off. He grabbed the washcloth off the side of the tub, and covered it in soap. Dal squirmed underneath him, trying desperately to throw the conman off.

"Would you quit it!" Nick barked as the washcloth slipped out of his hand. In his haste to retrieve it, he caught sight of the look in the Hunter's eyes seconds before his arm came up to defend him. The pain was incredible; made for it or not, the human jaw could put forth a lot of devastating pressure when the nervous system wasn't in order.

Nick swore, grabbing a fistful of Dal's hair and trying to pry his mouth off his arm. He wondered briefly if Dal had the strength to snap the bone, but quickly put those thoughts aside when he noticed that Dal looked like he was about ready to start the average shredding routine.

"DAL!" He yelled, pulling harder on the Hunter's hair, which actually only resulted in him clamping his jaw harder. Nick clenched his teeth as a sharp pain ricocheted in his forearm. Dal loosened his jaw slightly, only to bite down again, harder and with a definite amount of anger.

He yelped, "Dal, let _go!_" He snarled, pulling harder on his hair. A droplet of red, followed by several more, hit the water and dissipated into pink. Dal's eyes, which had been tightly squeezed shut, opened just as suddenly as the attack. Nick, still holding his head, didn't move, wincing as Dal pulled his claws out of his arm. A split second later, he had all but thrown himself against the opposite side of the tub, blood staining his lips and chin. Nick cursed colorfully, clenching his fist to make sure nothing was broken.

He heard a whimper and looked up, startled. Guilt shot him in the chest, and he sighed in exasperation, "Would you just come here?"

For the rest of the time, Nick sat in the tub with Dal as he scrubbed the caked dirt and filth off his body. It was a wonder that his injuries hadn't gotten infected soon. He had been forced to drain the tub completely and just have the water running and the stopper out, because the water was turning a murky brown whenever Nick sprayed him with the showerhead. He didn't like that very much, whining and crying the entire time.

Nick felt bad for torturing him, but he deserved it for nearly ripping his arm off.

_Then again_, Nick thought with a slight frown, _I shouldn't blame him. He's sick, and he's afraid of water…I should've actually expected him to get all primal on me._

Nevertheless, Nick didn't let up. He had found a couple of Sarah's old hairbrushes. The fun part was going to be washing Dal's hair.

"Close you're eyes," He instructed, staring directly at Dal's face. The Hunter blinked. "No, like… close them. Keep them shut." Dal stared at him blankly. He rolled his eyes and shut them tightly, indicating his face, "Do this."

When he opened his eyes, Dal was doing just that, "Now, _don't_ stop doing that." Dal nodded, and Nick poured the shampoo on his freshly brushed hair. It was only seconds after he'd started scrubbed that the shampoo took on a nasty reddish, muddy color. He could feel an array of scabs on the Hunter's head, probably ridiculously itchy from being so filthy.

Dal's was purring. He seemed to be enjoying the head massage. Nick grabbed the brush and got the new knots out. He rinsed and repeated.

It took him an hour and a half _just_ to wash Dal's hair. By the time he was done, Dal had revealed his natural hair color; a light, ashen brown. Nick had been assuming it was black since they'd met.

Nick cracked his knuckles briefly, adjusting his steadily bruising knees. Abruptly, Dal let out a soft whimper, which escalated into a shriek of agony. The conman frowned deeply as he watched Dal press his hands to his eyes and scream. Without hesitating, he grabbed the Hunter's head and pulled it back, taking the showerhead and spraying him in the face.

Dal coughed, gagging on the water for a moment. Nick tilted his head to the side, "Try to open your eyes, just a little bit. The water will rinse out the soap." _You're a **retard**._

It took forever, but eventually Dal's eyes were free of soap, and he learned a grave lesson; when Nick says close your eyes, Nick means _close your eyes_.

For the rest of the time Nick spent scrubbing dirt off Dal's nose, the Hunter had his face screwed up to keep his eyes tightly shut.

Once out of the tub, Nick took the time to towel dry the Hunter, blessing his luck that Dal hadn't been injured anywhere below his belly button. He looked healthier, and over all more alive than he had been before. The fever was subsiding now that the infected wounds had been properly cleaned out, and while his face was still ashen gray from the infected, his pallor wasn't nearly as ugly a color as it had originally been.

The wounds, now crisp and bleeding a little, were wrapped up in gauze after being thoroughly treated to more antibiotic cream. Dal didn't like the bandages, but he was going to have to deal with them until his injuries healed.

Nick shut the bathroom door behind him, taking with him a plastic bag full of Dal's clothes. "If you need me, holler." He called over his shoulder. He was supplying Dal with a pair of sweatpants (Sarah's, as Nick's didn't fit him) and a hoodie(likely belonging to a more recent husband) to wear until Nick had washed his clothes. He was looking them over, however, and they looked fairly unsalvageable. But he had to try.

While Dal was in the bathroom getting changed, Nick took the sweatpants that wouldn't have fit Dal and found a red t-shirt that would suffice until his suit dried. He scowled; sure, the thing had needed to be washed, and just by soaking in the water a lot of the grim and fresh blood had come out, but that didn't mean Nick was happy about being drenched.

He pulled the t-shirt over his head and glanced to the bathroom door as he heard it open. Dal didn't look happy about the clothes. Nick watched as he pinched the fabric with his fingers and sniffed it, rubbing the material between his fingertips.

"Dal…" He croaked.

"Don't complain," Nick couldn't help but chuckle, "You should be happy that you don't smell like a sewer anymore. You might have to keep that hoodie if I can't get yours clean."

The Hunter looked mortified, and dragged himself over to Nick, falling on him and whining.

"Oh stop," He grumbled, "You're such a baby."

.

As it had turned out, Dal was going to keep the hoodie that Nick had given him. And he was probably going to get a new pair of pants, as well. The smell came out easy, and the water from the sink pulled almost all the muck.

But Nick wasn't going to take Dal to New Jersey for the upcoming winter if he had enormous slashes and holes in his clothes.

That was only part of the reason why Nick had gotten into the Santa Fe and turned the key a day later. He also needed to get them some non-perishable food items, considering the fact that he hadn't eaten anything in more than a day. At least he had water. Dal was sitting beside him in the vehicle, having not wanted to leave Nick alone for more than a minute. It was actually probably because he felt guilty for nearly ripping off his friend's arm, and digging deep gashes into his arm.

Speaking of which, Nick had forgotten to treat them. _Oh well,_ he thought vaguely, _I'll take care of it when we get back._

The roads were clear of cars; it seemed like everyone in Macon had managed to get out before the infection had reached them, or the evacuation stations had been doing a better job than the ones in Savannah. The ones that Nick, Rochelle, Ellis and Coach had always been late to.

Now that he thought about them, it suddenly occurred to Nick that he really missed his old team. He sighed, catching Dal's attention. The Hunter stared at him blankly. Nick ignored him.

The little shopping plaza that Nick vaguely remembered was worth the ten minutes he'd spent getting lost. Considering the slight amount of infected that had led him to believe that everyone had been properly evacuated, he shouldn't have been surprised to find that no store-robbing had taken place. If a window was smashed (which most of them were), it was likely because some infected had seen his reflection and freaked out.

He parked the car in front of the two biggest supermarkets that were oddly right next to each other. Practicality was clearly not a regular occurrence in this particular area of the world. Deciding it wasn't worth pondering, Nick glanced over his shoulder to make sure Dal was following. The front door was completely smashed down, though the metal wasn't warm to the touch. Whichever beastly thing had come through the door had to be gone by now.

Dal followed him closely as they made their way to Target's clothing section, completely untouched, in search for a pair of pants that Dal would like and that would actually fit his scrawny hips. He glanced at Dal briefly; the Hunter was sitting on his haunches beside him, gazing blankly at the numbers over the jeans.

Dal was a Hunter; he liked to crouch, and he had to be able to move as freely as possible, no matter what he was wearing. Nick began drifting away the straight cuts and towards the boot cuts and carpenters. He frowned, glancing at Dal again.

"Stand up." He commanded. The Hunter obeyed almost naturally, "Look at them, and tell me which one you like."

He crept nervously towards the shelves that Nick had gravitated towards and poked at them. Nick tilted his head, watching as the Hunter pinched and felt the fabric. He seemed to want something that wasn't going to irritate his skin. He had, despite his original reservations, grown fond of his sweatpants.

Nick eyes were wandering the store; it was quiet, and while he didn't mind too much, he still wanted to keep an eye out while his Hunter pal was sifting through pants. He knew how much bullying the kid tended to take, and he still wanted Dal to be taking it easy until his wounds were nothing more than scars. His nerves were still shaken from the close call, and Nick didn't ever want to see Dal like that again.

He felt a tug on his sleeve and glanced over. Dal had found a material that he liked. It was soft and pliable; perfect for both comfort and jumping around like a maniac. Nick nodded and started sifting through the sizes to find the absolute smallest one in stock, eventually coming across a 30x32.

"Try them on." Nick said, handing them to Dal before looking further in case a 29x30 was required. Dal whimpered. He turned around.

He couldn't figure out the zipper and button. Nick clearly remembered having to undo those for him before his bath. He sighed heavily and did the button for him, clearly showing how to work the pants.

Dal watched, fascinated it, and seemed pleased with his newly acquired skill. Nick took a step back, looking directly at the Hunter's waist, "Lift the hoodie," He said, "I wanna see if these fit."

Dal did as told, and Nick reached over and tugged the on them, seeing if they slid down any. They barely moved under his pull, and he pulled away with a triumphant look on his face.

Dal let the hoodie fall back down, and followed as Nick exited Target and headed into Wal-Mart. He wandered rather aimlessly into the non-perishable aisle, tilting his head and frowning at the indecisiveness he was about to experience. He heard a sound reminiscent of tearing and glanced at Dal; he was taping his pants. He sighed, shaking his head. He had known that there was a reason for the constant rolls of duct tape that he wore around his wrists.

"If I was your mother, I would be yapping at you for 'ruining your brand new clothes.' Luckily for me, I'm not your mother." Nick said to him with raised eyebrows. Dal glanced up with a confused look on his face. Nick waved him off, "As you were."

For the next few minutes, as Nick was prodding random things on the shelves, Dal continued to tape his clothes. He sighed heavily, finally deciding on several boxes of granola bars. They had enough sugary preservatives in them to keep them from going back, and it wasn't like he and Dal ate a lot anyway.

He sent the Hunter to retrieve some plastic bags from the front checkout. He returned only moments later with the necessary equipment. Nick stuffed the bags to their limit, and then some.

The car was stifling when they got back into it. Nick rolled down the windows to let out some of the heat out, and regretted parking the car in the sun. He got back on the road heading towards Sarah's house, passing through the residential areas again and sighing heavily. Dal was popping his lips. He looked at the Hunter seriously, "If you do that one more time, I'm going to drown you in the tub."

He looked mortified and stopped making the noise.

The drive back would take them about twenty minutes, unless Nick got lost, which he wasn't expecting to do. Dal was staring out the window, looking bored. Rather abruptly, the Hunter jerked forward, nearly slamming his head into the dashboard as Nick slammed on the brakes with all the strength he had in his legs. The car skidded to a stop, forcing him to turn the wheels to prevent them from careening into the person who had just run out in front of the Santa Fe.

Nick let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, he glanced over at Dal, "Stay here." He growled, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car.

Nick spent a few seconds chewing his tongue before he spoke to the biker that had just nearly gotten run over, "If you don't mind me asking, what in all _fucking hell_ would possess someone, even someone as stupid as you, to jump out into traffic?"

Francis didn't look deterred, "What're you doing out here?"

Nick rolled his eyes, "I got left behind." He snapped, but upon calming down slightly, Nick gave Francis a curious look, "Where's Zoey and Louis?"

Francis frowned when he mentioned Louis, "Zoey's hurt," He said, "Why else would I jump in front of a moving vehicle?" He grumbled, "You wouldn't mind giving us a hand, would you?"

The conman searched his expression for a moment, searching for sincerity and finding plenty of it. "Fine. Where is she?" he had a feeling that there was a reason Francis hadn't brought up Louis.

"She's inside…"

"Well, go get her." Nick replied, "I'll put everything in the trunk. You two get back seat."

Francis thanked him quietly before hurrying into the boarded up house right next to them. Nick pulled open the side door and glanced at Dal, "We have guests." He said, "You don't know them, but try to get along." Dal was twisted around in his seat, watching as Nick took the new bags of granola bars and placed them in the back. The conman heard footsteps; one set of strong, heavy steps, the other sounding more like a limp.

He looked up. Francis was supporting the majority of Zoey's weight, and he could see an incredibly ugly set of slashes on her leg, likely given to her by a Witch. Nick clicked his tongue as he stared at the injuries, which very obviously weren't being properly tended to. This was going to be a Dal all over again if he didn't nip it in the bud.

Francis helped Zoey into the Santa Fe, following her inside as Nick walked around to the other side and got into the driver's seat. "Buckle your seatbelts." He said calmly.

"Huh?" Zoey mumbled; she was definitely not feeling her best. She was in a world on pain, and it was easy to tell.

"If I hit a Tank, you'll go through the windshield. Francis, buckle her up."

He heard the familiar clicks, and put the car into drive. Francis didn't like the silence, clearly, as he started up a conversation, "So, you got left behind?"

Nick nodded at the road, "Yea. We were in New Orleans. I got smoked before I could catch the chopper, so the others are somewhere in the world, and I don't even actually know if they're still alive."

Francis nodded understandingly, "Sorry 'bout that, uh…"

"Nick." He clarified, "I'm Nick."

"Right."

* * *

**A/N**

**Introduction of Zoey and Francis! The plot progresses further. Don't worry, Nick'll be back on the road soon, possibly and likely even in the next chapter. Ellis, Rochelle, and Coach are still being missed, even by the author herself! _Are_ they okay? Is it possible that they just got to the safe zone and were killed as carriers? Or are they all immune and safe? Or are they looking for Nick? Or did the helicopter crash again? So many possibilities, which will it be? No need to vote, because I already know!  
**

**On the other hand, where's Louis? Is _he_ okay?**


	14. Pants On The Ground

**_XIV_**

…

Nick returned from the bathroom with probably the largest medical supply kit Zoey had ever seen. He dumped it on the bed beside her and opened it, retrieved butterfly stitches, gauze, medical tape, and a lot of alcohol swabs and antibiotic creams. He glanced down at her leg, tilting his head slightly and frowning.

He then looked back at the task at hand, apparently looking for something, "Take them off."

Zoey blinked, "Wh-… Take what off?"

Nick sighed heavily, looking at her in exasperation, "Your _pants_. Take them off."

She flushed in embarrassment, "Why do I need to take my pants off?"

"Because if you don't take them off, then I can't wrap the wound, _dear_." Zoey didn't look at all convinced. She glowered at him darkly, but Nick wasn't at all deterred.

"Or are you just trying to get my clothes off?" She snapped.

Nick laughed outright, before shaking his head, "Sorry, I don't do children."

"I'm not a child!"

"Compared to me you are." He replied calmly, "Pants. Off. Now."

It didn't take long to treat her injuries. Only the central wound - likely caused by the Witch's middle finger - was deep enough to warrant butterfly stitches. Nick wasn't pleased at having met up with them; because of Zoey's injuries he was going to have to put off his journey north another day or two.

.

"What are you doing?" Zoey asked, watching as he sifted through Sarah's closet. There was an open suitcase on the bed, open and holding a nearly folded pile of clothing.

Nick pulled his head out of the closet, "I'm preparing for my journey." He replied, "I'm only halfway there, and I wanted to be there two weeks ago, before it was winter."

Zoey pursed her lips slightly, lowering her gaze, "Sorry if we hindered you…"

Nick frowned, "You aren't the only one who got sick."

She didn't look very convinced, "The only reason I initially stopped in Macon and holed up here was because Dal was sick." Zoey nodded mutely.

"Where are you going?"

"Atlantic City," He sighed heavily, grabbing the tops of hangers and wrenching everything to the left side of the closet. He disappeared; large closet.

Zoey took a step slightly to the left, peering into the closet. The light wasn't on, but she could see the light from his flashlight. "Why there?"

Nick didn't reply at first, but eventually spoke, "It's where I grew up," He said, his voice barely audible outside of the closet, "I know Atlantic City like the back of my hand, and I tend to feel safer in an apocalypse if I know where everything is."

"I've gotten tired of running around the country blindly without a clue whether or not I'd be able to find enough supplies in any town to get me to the next stop."

Francis appeared in the room, and Zoey glanced over her shoulder to greet him. He didn't say anything, "Where would you stay?"

"My parent's house. Hopefully they didn't demolish it like they said they were going to as soon as Scott and I were gone." Nick sounded marginally irritated, "I _know_ it's in here… I saw it before!"

Zoey blinked, "What are you looking for?"

"This one… A-ha!" A moment later, he emerged from Narnia, holding the hanger of what looked like a suit.

"Really?"

"I'm not going to wear these," He indicated himself, "during the winter in New Jersey. There are too many holes and the fabric has gotten ridiculously thin from all the wear and tear."

Zoey raised her eyebrows, "Besides," He frowned, "I gave you a new pair of jeans from Sarah's closet. Why can't I change too? Even Dal's got a new outfit." He glanced up at Francis, "Are you interested in investing in some warmer clothing?"

Francis blinked, glancing sideways as Zoey's legs. He clearly hadn't noticed her new jeans. He looked back over at Nick and shook his head, "I'm a goddamn Tank. I can handle the cold."

Nick shrugged, "I'm just preparing. We're in for a rough winter."

"You can tell?"

"You can't?"

Zoey shrugged, "I don't usually pay attention to the weather before it's here."

Francis looked surprised to hear that, "When you live in colder regions, you tend to be able to tell what the weathers going to be like." He explained.

Nick nodded, "I'm sure Coach had the skill as well."

_Had?_

**_Has._**

Zoey seemed to notice his Freudian slip, "Do you… think they're okay?"

The way he reacted to her words was an obvious show that he was not comfortable talking to her about it. Nick dumped the black slacks and blue dress shirt on the bed for him to later change into. He turned back to the closet and pulled out a heavy-looking blazer and folded it up half-heartedly to stuff into the suitcase.

"I haven't thought about it," Nick muttered stiffly, "I mean… They've been durable throughout this end of the world bullshit, but if they're carriers, or if there isn't room for everyone…"

Zoey bit her lip, lowering her gaze as she clearly remembered her last experience being in military custody. Francis seemed to notice her distress, his hand gravitating towards hers. There was a silence as the biker squeezed her hand comfortingly, though he made sure to let go as Nick straightened up and turned to face them.

"Where's Dal?"

Francis gestured over his shoulder, "He's still downstairs."

"What's he doing?"

"Cat-nap."

Nick nodded semi-approvingly before reaching up and unbuttoning his shirt, "Unless you're interested in watching me change, I'd advise you head downstairs and join him." He paused glancing over at them, "I want to be out of here by tomorrow morning, so make sure you're in bed early enough for me to be able to easily wake you up at the crack of dawn."

Zoey nodded, tapping Francis' arm and turning away to head for the door. The biker wrapped an arm around her waist almost but not quite hesitantly. She didn't seem to mind the contact, so he tugged her to his hip as the door was closing behind them.

Nick watched them go, a smile appearing on his face. So they _were_ together. They'd been showing him mixed signals since their arrival, but Nick supposed that it made sense that Zoey would eventually open up to a relationship with the biker, considering the fact that they'd been together since about the start of the infection, and had been protecting each other since then as well.

His mind wandered to Rochelle; he hoped that, at the very least, she was okay. He had a lot more that he wanted her to know.

"Time to get up, lovebirds," he called, banging on the bedroom door. He heard a loud, unhappy groan, "I told you to go to bed early, and you stayed up all night fucking, didn't you?"

He heard Zoey laugh, and a few minutes later they had joined him and Dal downstairs, when the conman was pouring over a map and tracing roads with his fingers. He had bookmarked three different roads with this left index, middle and ring fingers, and he was in the process of choosing yet another route, just incase.

Francis walked over to join him, Zoey right by his side. "What'cha got?"

Nick glanced up for a brief second before looking back down at the map, "I'm definitely taking the back roads like I've been doing. I'm probably going to take the route on my middle finger." Francis glanced at the road, tilting his head slightly and frowning.

"What do you think?" The conman asked, "Know anything about these roads?"

Francis nodded, "Yea; when the infection hit, I'm pretty sure Route Middle Finger was under construction."

Zoey nodded, "It was; my um… my dad told me that he had to take a route around it only a few days before the outbreak."

Nick nodded, removing his middle finger from the map, "What about these two?"

Francis stared at the map with him, the two of them muttering things back and forth.

Abruptly, a clawed hand appeared, touching Macon, Georgia and tracing a rather complex seeming route to Atlantic City. Nick pulled his hands away completely, following Dal's finger as he traced the route back and forth.

"Why that route?" Dal looked at him, indicating himself and then making the motions of a steering wheel.

"You've driven this way before?" He shrugged, tapping his head to signify that he remembered the route but not why he'd driven on it, or if he'd even been the one driving. Nick nodded, taking out a pencil and asking the Hunter to trace the route again with his finger. Dal did so, and Nick followed the line with the pencil.

"Are you sure?"

Dal nodded. Nick shrugged indifferently, "Well then I guess it doesn't matter. If the roads blocked, then we can find another way."

They piled into the Santa Fe, Francis and Zoey still in the back seat. Nick glanced in his rearview mirror, "Zoey, seatbelt."

"Huh?"

"If I hit a Tank, you'll go through the windshield, and then who's gonna make babies with Francis?"

She flushed bright red and buckled her seatbelt. "You're an asshole."

"I have a permit."

* * *

**A/N**

**And we STILL don't know what happened to the others! Jizz'm! **

**Two updates in a day! Because this chapter is SO SHORT that I couldn't just update it and then not write for another four days. Aren't I wonderful?  
**


	15. It Figures

**_XV_**

…

This was one of those situations where Nick would've said, "It figures" if he hadn't been unable to speak from the shock. He could hear the sound of someone fumbling with a seatbelt, he could hear Francis muttering something to Zoey, who seemed to be okay but not in any shape to reply. Dal was whimpering, and he could feel the pressure of a hand on his shoulder, trying to rouse him.

Okay, so he'd been driving a little fast. And there had been a patch of black ice that he hadn't been able to see in the darkness. And it had been snowing.

Yea, this was definitely his fault.

The smell of hot metal reached him. He didn't remember anything hurting as much as it was right then. The helicopter crash had been pretty bad, though, so that was worth the comparison. Dal was still whimpering, seemingly trying to convey something to the folks in the back seat. Francis was still moving around; Nick could hear him, and he could feel the car wobbling under the amount of movement.

Zoey let out a choked sob, and he could hear her leaning up into the front area and feel her trying to get him to wake up. He heard her hiss in pain, muttering something to Francis amount glass shards; something about being careful.

Francis was swearing quietly in the back seat; he was injured, or angry that Nick had allowed himself to get a little too excited about nearing his destination and subsequently spin the Santa Fe off the road, through a guardrail, and into a ditch. Or maybe it was a tree.

They were still trying to rouse him. Nick managed to let out a groan to signal that he was still alive.

"Nick…" Zoey breathed, her voice shaky. He felt bad for scaring her. "Oh God, Nick…"

"What's wrong?" Francis mumbled from beside her, "What is it?"

"His head…" Well, that didn't sound good.

"We need to take care of that." Zoey said, reaching for the back seat. Francis stopped her.

"We need to get out of here first. It's not exactly safe in here; she's teetering on two wheels." Zoey didn't reply, so he assumed that she was probably nodding. Nick clenched his teeth as his head began to pound, his hand twitching as he reached up clumsily to find the source of the pain. Dal grabbed his wrist to stop him; he recognized the cool, scarred hands on his skin, even though he could barely feel anything.

There was a suddenly scramble of motion in the backseat; Francis was tossing things out the broken side window; weapons, food, medical supplies… Zoey had grabbed a knife and was in the process of cutting Nick out of his seatbelt. The Hunter beside him moved quickly, scampering out the windshield and carefully pulling Nick out. The ground was cold and somewhat wet. It wasn't snowing anymore. He heard more footsteps; Zoey and Francis had managed to escape the vehicle as well. He heard the sound of a rolling suitcase; they were bringing the supplies to him.

"Th-there's a…" Zoey was stumbling over her words; the shock wasn't adjusting well to her mind. "There's…"

"House," Francis clarified. Nick wondered what was going on, but it came to him quickly when he felt Dal and Francis picking him up. They adjusted the conman on Dal's back. The sound of metal scraping against the pavement, likely the guns being picked up, reached him. He groaned again, this time more softly. Nick wondered if they understood that he was trying to say something to them, or if they just thought he was in too much pain to do much more than groan.

They started walking. Nick could feel the world gently bumping along with Dal's slightly heavy footsteps. He cracked his eyes open, and found himself barely able to make sense of the darkness that his eyes simply refused to adjust to.

Nick allowed his eyes to slip shut, feeling a slight tremor from his muscles travel across his body. Dal mumbled something garbled to him. The conman didn't reply, letting out a shaky sigh and becoming limp again.

_Trisha was no virgin to harassing Nick. And Nick was no virgin to fending her off through verbal abuse, which usually got him in trouble, and physically pushing her away, which sometimes also got him in trouble. However, this was different. This was very different, because Trisha's head was bobbing between his legs, and he was too tired to properly defend himself._

_He was being virtually starved as punishment for not having dinner ready by the time Dad got home from work. If it weren't for the fact that he would die without at least a little bit of something to eat every so often, his father wouldn't be feeding him at all._

_Trisha pulled away from his lap, standing up and pushing him down onto the bed. Nick was so drunk on the feeling and the exhaustion that he made absolutely no effort to resist. She situated herself on his hips, and chuckled softly._

_Nick winced, his breath hitching. He heard the front door slam shut downstairs. Trisha was drunk from the bottle of wine she'd downed half an hour earlier. She didn't hear Dad coming up the stairs, but Nick was alerted by the sound of said man calling him, sounding angry._

_"We're in here, sweetheart!" Trisha wasn't Nick's mother. Trisha didn't know Nick's Dad very well. If she had, she would've been able to foresee what was going to happen when he found them. Trisha was Dad's sidelines girlfriend; only showing up to stay with them when Mom was in rehab. Nick didn't like her, but she was drop-dead gorgeous and was only kept around for Dad to have his fun with._

_It was a shame that she had grown an unhealthy interest in Dad's 16 year-old son._

_His bedroom door burst open, and..._

The first thing that surfaced was voices. Nick opened his eyes slowly; it was still dark out, judging by the window to the left. Zoey was walking over to him, Dal was right beside him. Francis was standing nearby, looking worried and irritated. They all seemed to notice that he was awake.

"Fuck," Nick hissed, reaching up tentatively to find the source of his pain. Zoey finally reached his side, grabbing his hand and forcing it back down to his lap. He was propped upright on a bed, pillows piled up against his back. He was sure he looked as horrible as he felt.

"D-Don't touch it," She stuttered, "I need to wrap it up…"

Dal whimpered softly to his right. He caught Francis' eye. He looked at Zoey, "What happened?"

"You spun out." Francis replied before Zoey could say anything. He suddenly looked and sounded angry, "You hit a patch of black ice. Guardrail and then ditch, remember?"

He did remember. He lowered his gaze as his mind sorted out the crash. He remembered the blotchy darkness and confusion after he had been hit by flying shards of windshield and after he had slammed into the steering wheel. He recalled the cold road and the snow and the black ice and the screaming from the back seat. He remembered them trying to rouse him, scared that he wasn't going to make it.

Nick swallowed down a lump in his throat, "So-… sorry…" He managed to force out, "I shouldn't have been driving that fast… I didn't…."

Aside from the physical pain, Nick felt horrible for putting them through that. He hadn't been thinking. He had been exhausted and he'd wanted to _get there_ already so that he could get out of the car and go to sleep. He should've switched drivers. He should've let Francis take the wheel, or Zoey. He should've stopped the car somewhere alongside the road, taken a brief nap.

"Damn right you shouldn't have been driving that fast!" Francis snarled, lowering his crossed arm, "You nearly fucking killed us, you idiot!"

Nick didn't reply. Zoey did, "Francis, shut up." She snapped, "What's done is done, so give it a rest."

"Give it a rest! Zo, we could've-…"

"But we _didn't_, incase you hadn't notice! So drop it!"

Dal was utterly silent. Francis stopped talking, scoffing and muttering something about downstairs as he left the room. Zoey had tears of frustration in her eyes as she returned her attention to the wound on Nick's forehead. She wrapped his head up in gauze, covering the butterfly stitches that she'd given him and swore under her breath.

"I'm sorry," She mumbled, reaching up and rubbing her eyes, "I… I'm still a little…"

Nick looked up at her, his chest beginning to ache as the lump returned to his throat, "I'm sorry…" He muttered, the words tasting like acid. He didn't like apologizing. He never had.

Zoey shook her head and stood up, "You didn't do it on purpose."

She left.

Nick glanced at Dal. The Hunter seemed to be okay with just knowing that Nick was alive. The conman scooted over in the bed and adjusted the pillows accordingly so that he could lie down. Dal kicked off his boots and clambered into bed with him.

"What the hell is your problem!_?_" Zoey all but yelled as she spotted Francis sitting on the side of the couch that wasn't stained with blood. He looked up at her, gritting his teeth as he stood up.

"I don't know if you weren't listening," He replied hotly, "But he nearly _killed _us."

"Oh, so he _intentionally_ sped up, and spotted a patch of black ice to swerve into, and then maneuvered the fucking car into the guardrail? And I suppose his injury is just part of the bargain, huh_?_!"

"Don't start with me, Zoey…"

"I'm going to start with you! We've almost _died_ a million times, whether it was Bill's fault, or Louis', or mine, or yours!"

Her eyes were filling with angry tears. Francis could see the signs of an incoming breakdown, and inwardly cursed. This wasn't going the way he'd hoped.

"It's not the same! He's not one of us! He's like a different species-…"

"The fuck kind of argument is that? Francis I've _shot_ you! Multiple times, on accident, and you've never taken it personally! Or is that just because you want a piece of my ass? And since Nick can't give you that, you're willing to make him feel horrible about something that's _obviously_ already eating him."

"What the hell are you implying, bitch!_?_"

"I'M IMPLYING THAT YOU'RE JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER FUCKING SCUMBAG I'VE EVER MET!" She shrieked, "If bedding me is your only goal then-…"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" Francis barked, shutting her up instantly, "Why can't you just understand that!_?_"

"Because you don't act the way you talk!" She snarled, turning away from him and heading back upstairs. He heard a door slam, and fell back onto the couch. Under normal circumstances, Francis would've just punched the nearest wall. However, he didn't have that luxury during an apocalypse, because he did need two hands to fire a shotgun.

.

They walked the rest of the way to Atlantic City a day later. Zoey had forced Nick to stay in bed and rest for a day so he'd be ready when they started walking. He didn't get much sleep because of the memories that kept resurfacing while he was asleep. In the end, her effort to get him to rest was rather pointless.

It was only an hour and a half walk, but it was tiring due to the cold. Nick had never been happier to see his childhood home. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever been happy to see it at all. The first thing he noticed upon spotting the house was the smoking chimney. His eyes narrowed, and he instinctively placed a hand on his pistol. If his Dad was there, he was going to shoot him. If it was Scott, he might consider letting him live. If it was Mom…

Well, the chances of Mom being alive were slim anyway, what with the failing liver and all.

But if it was Dad or Scott, he was probably going to kill them. Some things were necessary.

The door was locked, but Nick knew exactly where the key was. He stepped off the welcome mat and lifted it; as he had suspected, the key was still there, in all it's silver glory. He unlocked the door and walked in. It was warm inside. There was still a dark red stain on the couch from where Mom had dropped a wine glass. The wood floors were still polished and well-kept, one of Nick's many chores. The dining room was empty, and Nick could smell something being cooked in the kitchen.

Zoey was standing to his right. Francis was on his left. Dal was standing just in front of Zoey, looking nervous. They were all looking at the conman for direction. Nick didn't give them any.

"I'm home!" He called, dumping the bag he'd been carrying on the couch. "Sorry I'm late…"

There was a small commotion in the kitchen. Nick pulled out his pistol and took aim, preparing to kill his Dad should he show his angry face. There was a long pause before a pair of footsteps could be heard approaching. Scott stood in the doorway, his black hair just as messy and unkempt as Nick remembered. Black slacks, a deep red button up with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He wasn't wearing shoes, which explained the pair of sneakers that Nick had seen by the stairs when they'd first walked in.

Nick lowered his pistol; Scott smiled, looking mildly pleased to see him. The expression looked like a serial killer's.

Scott chuckled, the expression rather random. Nick tensed noticeably, "I didn't think I would ever see _you_ again, Nikki." He said, his voice laced with a certain amount of insanity that Nick had actually become accustomed to after living with him for 16 years.

"I could say the same to you," He replied icily. "Dad and Mom are dead, I assume."

The older brother laughed outright, "Yep!" He said, grinning broadly, "I killed Dad. Mom died like, eight years ago. Liver failure. Big surprise, huh?"

Nick didn't smile at all, "I'm rather surprised that you decided to come here, of all places, to hole up."

Scott shrugged, still smiling, "I could say the same to you. Weren't you the one who was desperate to get out last time I saw you?"

"You would've been desperate, too." Nick muttered under his breath. He could feel Zoey and Francis staring at him. Dal was sitting on his haunches beside him, glowering at Scott; the Hunter clearly didn't like the older brother.

Scott sighed contentedly, "Welcome home, Nikki." He chuckled, turning his sinister stare on Zoey, "Who're your friends?"

Nick didn't reply at first, unsure of whether he wanted Scott to know their names. Finally, he replied, "Francis, Zoey, and Dal."

The older brother nodded, looking relatively drunk, "Nice to meet you, friends of Nikki. I'm Scott, the older brother."

Francis scowled, "That does explain a lot." He said, glancing at Nick.

Scott laughed, "It does, doesn't it? If you had a serial killer for a brother, you'd probably turn out like little Nikki, too!"

Nick glanced at the two beside him, "He's not a serial killer," He explained, "He's just an asshole."

Scott had disappeared back into the kitchen, "Nikki!" He called, the tone commanding. Nick snapped to attention.

"What?"

"Cook for me! I think I just ruined this…" Nick's eye twitched, but he followed after his brother, glancing over his shoulder and signaling for the other's to "make themselves at home, if possible."

Francis and Zoey seated themselves on the couch. Dal was poking at the dusty books on the shelves. Silence from the kitchen made it seem like one or the other was likely dead.

Of course, the assumption was not nearly as correct as one might've thought. Nick was reading directions on a can in one hand while simultaneously stirring the soup. He glanced down at it and frowned.

"I think you cooked it for too long," He muttered. Scott was watching him with a creepy, nostalgic kind of expression on his face. Nick glanced at him, and frowned.

"What?"

"I'm just thinking about how you look much better in the kitchen than most women I've met."

Nick bit his tongue, anger pulsating throughout his very being, "You aren't usually this much of a lunatic."

Scott shrugged halfheartedly, "Maybe I'm not as immune as you think," He replied, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Nick's shoulder. "You sure seem a lot more of talkative than I remember."

Nick didn't even bother attempting to shrug his brother's arm off. He didn't reply to the comment, just concentrating on stirring and ignoring it as Scott started pinching him.

"Your shoulders are awfully tense," He observed, "Am I that nerve-wracking?"

Nick didn't reply, so Scott took the initiative and stepped beside him to attempt to work the knots out. Nick winced as he pressed on a bruise, but Scott didn't seem to take much notice to the movement.

"Don't touch me." He snapped, turning off the burner and sliding the pot off the heat, "We've been over this."

Scott chuckled lightheartedly and pulled away, peering over Nick's shoulder as he stirred the soup a bit more, "I lied. It wasn't on for too long."

"Oh, good. Is it ready?" Nick hummed in reply, ducking under Scott's intrusive body and heading for the living room to inform the others.

Zoey was on her feet when he walked in, looking at photographs on the mantel over the fireplace with a slight frown on her face. There were soft red embers in burning away by her ankles, but she was so concentrated on the pictures that she didn't seem to notice.

"In any of them…" She looked up at him, surprised. Francis looked like he'd been listening to her talking until a few seconds ago. Dal was still poking around on the bookshelves.

"What?" She was looking at him in confusion. Nick scowled.

Zoey replied, "You aren't in any of the pictures?" The conman opened his eyes to reply, but Scott's voice cut him off, floating from behind him. He winced, surprised that he hadn't noticed his brother's presence.

"If we had added a fourth person, the cost would've gone up four dollars," The older brother explained, "So Dad told him to wait on a bench out of sight."

Zoey looked mortified, "That's horrible! What kind of parents-…!"

"They didn't like me," Nick said indifferently, "Which was fine, because I hated the lot of them anyway."

"He didn't hate me."

"I hated you more than Dad, Scott." The older brother looked taken aback, if not horrified by the news. Nick rolled his eyes and turned back to the other three.

"There's food," He said, "I'll be upstairs."

Without another word, Nick stalked upstairs. They heard a door shut upstairs. Scott smirked and glanced over to Zoey. He winked, "Eat your fill," and went upstairs after his brother.

Zoey exchanged a brief, petrified glance with Francis. The biker was on his feet, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. Dal was staring up the stairs after Scott and Nick. He didn't look happy.

"D-Did you see his…?" Zoey hissed, unable to get the image of Scott's expression out of her head. Not a serial killer, huh? Perhaps he was just crazy… It did explain why Nick had seemed more than reluctant to stick around when he'd spotted Scott.

Francis sighed, "Let's just… try to ignore the creepiness. For now…" Zoey nodded mutely, and they went into the kitchen to fetch something to eat.

Scott didn't bother to knock, only grabbing the doorknob and opening the gateway to Nick's room. The conman was staring out his window with a sour look on his face. He had probably jumped halfway out of his skin when Scott had thrown the door open.

"Hey, Nikki," he greeted, walking over to join him. The door, used to years of being closed more than it was opened, eased shut on its own accord. "I guess Dad never fixed your door after all, huh?"

Nick stared at Scott's reflection in the mirror-like window, "He never said he would. He just said he ought to."

The older brother was smiling, his eyes tracing the fine cracks in the glass. He clearly remembered coming back one day, and finding his adorable little brother slumped against the wall, the glass cracked where his head had been slammed into it.

"Did you want something?" Nick asked, somehow only just noticing that his brother had been using him as a pillow, "Get off."

"Where did you go?" Scott finally said, "I came home to give you a present, and you were gone. Dad said you had just gone out and never come back."

Nick averted his gaze from his brother's reflection. He didn't like the look on Scott's face. He didn't like the pseudo-concern in his voice. He scowled.

"If you had asked, I would've come here and-…"

"And _what_?" Nick snapped suddenly, turning to face his brother, "Enslave me at _your_ place?"

Scott looked surprised at the tone of voice he was receiving, but he didn't back down or cower. He didn't move, only watching as Nick refrained from hitting him with all the strength his tired limbs could muster.

"I would've gotten you out."

"You're full of shit," Nick snarled.

_This conversation is not working out the way I want it to._

Scott tilted his head slightly, trying to put himself back in Nick's line of vision by leaning in front of him. "I would've."

"Get out of my room."

* * *

**A/N**

**Scott, the older brother, enters! As if the tension levels couldn't get any worse.**

**Like I said, two updates in a day. **

**Not much to say here, really, other than; "PREPARE YOURSELF FOR DRAMA, CHARACTER DEATH, NEAR CHARACTER DEATH, AND A CERTAIN LACKING OF BROTHERLY LOVE."**

**Heehee  
**


	16. On The Bright Side

**_XVI_**

…

**_Nick_**

**_Sorry for not staying longer… Francis wants to get out of the states. He thinks that there may be less infected in a less populated area. If you decide to come after us, we're gonna head west and then north._**

**_-Zo_**

Nick frowned deeply as he reread the letter at least twelve times. They had _abandoned_ him with Scott. How lovely was that? He glanced at the foot of the bed, where Dal was picking at a tear in the quilt. He didn't really blame them though; they had lost two of their team members, and they probably weren't interested in just holing up and surviving so much as they were interested in finding a place where they could be somewhat safe.

Nick himself wasn't actually planning on sticking around much longer either; there was absolutely no was he was going to live with Scott for more than a day. One or the other of them would end up dead. Now that he thought about it, Scott had probably frightened Zoey away, and Francis had just followed her.

Scott was laughing about something rather hysterically downstairs. Nick decided it would probably be safest to remain upstairs until he calmed down. He glanced up at the door as he heard springy footsteps coming up the stairs. Without giving it any thought, Nick instinctively took several steps backwards, waiting expectantly for Scott to knock on his door.

He clutched the note from Zoey and Francis tightly. He wasn't sure why Scott was making him so intensely nervous. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night because he'd been listening to his older brother giggling rather uncontrollably in his sleep across the hall. Zoey and Francis had taken the master bedroom at the opposite end of the hall, so they probably hadn't been kept up by it at all.

He glanced at the shadow at the crack beneath his door. Scott wasn't this crazy. Sure, he had always been a bit sadistic, but he wasn't _this _crazy. Nick glanced out the window, staring out at the snowy outdoors and wondering nervously if the infection had caused his brother to lose his mind.

In which case, he might want to reconsider being so close. He glanced down at the note again, thinking seriously about climbing out the window with Dal and making a run for it.

_You'd think he was a wild animal that would chase me if I ran,_ he thought. Scott wasn't the type to give chase. He's usually let Nick get away if he managed to pry his wrist free.

He glanced over his shoulder; Dal was sleeping, curled up in the covers like a cat. He looked back to the door. The laughter had ceased, and the shadow was gone. Nick hesitantly walked forward, slowly turning the doorknob and pulling it open. His danger sensor wasn't going off, so he stepped out into the hall and allowed the door to shut behind him, clicking softly.

He stuffed the note into his pocket, and paused at the top of the stairs, listening careful for the sound of fabric or other movement that would give away Scott's location. He heard nothing; either his brother was holding very still and preparing to jump him the instant he walked down the stairs, or he was out and about. He had only been home for one night, and his instinctive jumpiness and overall wariness of everything and anything had already set in. That just went to show how badly Scott had scarred him; it had taken Nick nearly a year to get used to his brother not being home.

Scott had moved out when Nick was 15. He was still bitter about being abandoned.

Nick started down the stairs, pausing halfway down the landing. If Scott had lost his mind like he suspected, then the excitement of whatever he was about to do would make him laugh, and then he would give away his hiding spot. If Nick didn't hear him then-…

Scott giggled softly around the corner. He was in the kitchen. Nick's stomach twisted as he considered the possibility that Scott had been saving a jar for all these years just for him. He turned towards the kitchen and walked down the stair in a grapevine fashion, glowering at the kitchen door the entire time. He wouldn't be surprised.

"Is he ever gonna come out of his room…?" He heard Scott mutter. He hadn't heard him? That was odd; Scott had always had ears like a demon, and had a knack of picking up on the sound of breathing rodents when they were spending their time in the walls, on the rare occasions that it had happened.

Nick scowled, but eventually walked down the rest of the stairs. He tentatively pushed the kitchen door open, peering inside but not daring to take even a quarter of a step forward. He stared at the floor; not a shadow in sight. That meant that Scott was obviously behind the door. He walked in, keeping to the far side of the door frame, as far from the door itself as possible.

He was nearly two feet into the room when he heard a loud thud. He whirled around, completely startled. Judging from his crouched position, Scott had managed to attach himself to the _fucking ceiling_.

The older brother reached out and grabbed the front of Nick's shirt, pushing forward with his legs before the younger could have a moment to respond. He slammed Nick into the counter, inciting a curse or ninety.

"Jesus, watch your mouth!" He laughed.

"Get o-…" He had been expecting a head full of spiders. What he got instead was a single, large, hairy, eight-legged arachnid _shoved into his mouth_. Nick gagged, eyes widening as his senses were instantly set aflame by the sensation of his brother's fingers in his mouth and an arachnid making a wild dash for his tonsils.

Scott seemed oddly fascinated by the spider in Nick's mouth, and managed to keep his brother's mouth pried open despite the struggle. Nick punched him in the stomach with all the strength he could muster in his horrified kind of panic. Scott's intrusive fingers left his mouth, and the spider all but exploded when he clamped his teeth down on it.

He _barely_ reached the sink, heaving everything that he hadn't eaten for the past seven days into the silver bowl. Scott was doubled over, laughing or perhaps crying from the blow. He couldn't tell; he didn't care. He just had a fucking spider in his mouth and oh God he could still taste it and Jesus fucking Christ he was going to _kill Scott_.

He felt a hand pat his back; Scott, trying to be supportive of his barf-fest while trying to contain his laughter. Nick, feeling slightly less nauseous as he spat a wad of spit, perhaps containing a leg he couldn't tell what the hell that was, turned with all the speed he could and swung at Scott. He caught himself on the counter long enough to launch himself forward, swearing and yelling at the top of his lungs as he grabbed his brother by the collar of his shirt and swung again.

Scott caught his swinging hand, a wild grin on his face as he struggled to maintain both balance and dominance.

"YOU FUCK, IF I HAD ANY SENSE-…!"

"You're such a baby, Nikki!" Scott replied, his laughter turning frenzied as he dislodged Nick's hand from his shirt, threw him off balance and punched him across the face. There was truly an art to fighting, and it seemed that Scott had discovered it. Nick stumbled backwards, noticing that the older sibling was probably about to dive into his stomach and knock him to the floor. He didn't hesitate as he reached for the nearest object - a frying pan from the stove - and swung it as hard as he could. He barely missed, dropping the cookware as he swung and thus flinging it across the room. Scott had wrapped an arm around his waist and dragged him to the ground. They wrestled furiously, throwing punches whenever it was opportune.

"GET OFF ME!" Nick roared, finding another random object - a knife that had fallen to the floor - and swinging it at his brother, barely registering the fact that he could potentially kill Scott if he didn't somehow avoid it. Scott leaned back, tumbling off Nick shortly after the conman made the near-fatal attack.

He sat up, breathless, bruised and nearly caught up in his anger to the point that he was tempted to find his pistol and kill the older man. Scott looked up at him, startled, as he groped for a kitchen towel to press against the gaping wound in his forearm.

Nick stood up, dropping the knife as he went. Scott was getting to his feet when Nick stalked past him, his fists clenched tightly. The front door slammed, and Scott heard Nick swearing at the top of his lungs in rage as he fired upon unsuspecting infected.

.

"Fucking Scott, fucking… FUCK!" He snarled, shivering as the sensation of that _fucking spider_ resurfaced in his mouth. If he had been younger, around the age of 13, he would probably have burst into tears at this point. He walked past a convenience store, and glanced up at himself in the mirror-like window.

Then he slammed his fist against the glass; it shattered around his arm, and he was instantly lucky to be wearing the coat that he'd gotten from Sarah's house. He was so mad; he didn't actually notice that he was bleeding. It wasn't that bad, didn't hurt too much. Not important.

He scowled, climbing into the window. If he was going to wander around the city and sulk, he might as well make something useful out of it.

The store wasn't lit; most of the fluorescent lights were broken, and the ones that weren't flickered on and off over spans of several minutes. They probably needed a bulb change. Nick glanced around, walking past the checkout and towards the non-perishables.

He heard a giggle, and turned to look over his shoulder, "Scott," he snapped, "Go the fuck away."

The giggle turned into a laughing fit, reminiscent of a Jockey, but the voice was unmistakable. He shook his head, pulling out his pistol and absentmindedly reloading it as he continued forward. If Scott showed his face, Nick was going to shoot him.

No questions asked.

He heard a crunch of glass, and the laughter started again, sounding slightly more crazed when it was closer. Nick turned around again, his eyes searching the area carefully; he wasn't about to get killed by a Jockey, whether it was his brother or not.

He heard a delighted, shrilly laugh and whirled around in time to see Scott, in a manner much similar to a kangaroo, jump up and kick him in the chest with inhumane strength. He stumbled backwards, wheezing as he went down. Nick extended his left arm behind him in a rather pointless effort to catch himself. His wrist erupted in pain, and only a moment later it seemingly went numb. Whatever the stupid limb was doing, he lost all ability to operate it and hit the ground.

His chest was _burning_ worse than he thought it would. He rolled out of the way of Scott's inbound body, turning the roll into a manner of getting himself back to his feet. He probably broke his back in the process of doing that, but Nick wasn't really concerned about it at that point. He reached for his pistol, but then remembered that he had already taken it out.

And it wasn't in his hand.

He twisted out of the way of another attack, his eyes searching for his discarded weapon. So distracted by the search for his means of attack, Nick didn't have the concentration to register an incoming kick until it hit him. Before he had even hit the ground, Scott had pinned him, straddling his waist and swinging.

Nick cursed again, bringing up his hands to defend himself as he fought to get the newly-infected Jockey off. Scott was laughing, clearly enjoying the struggle with a passion.

And, now that he thought about it, Dal was probably still sleeping.

_On the bright side, I'm probably gonna die._

.

"Man, you shoulda' _seen_ the look on his face!" Ellis said, wiping the sweat off the brow, "I don't know how you can bundle up like that, Rochelle. I'm dyin' out here."

The woman chuckled, "I think it's a guy thing. I don't know a lot of men, or boys, who are sensitive to the cold." Coach and Ellis were following her through Atlantic City, neither sure about where they were going. The place was pretty big, and easy to get lost. Rochelle claimed that she'd spent a little while living there when she'd been young.

So far, it was looking like she hadn't been lying.

Ellis was looking around, completely fascinated by the 'large buildings.' He had clearly never been in a city in his entire life. Coach was looking a bit more on the wary side; cities meant people, and people meant infected in large numbers. He wasn't going to let his guard down for anything.

"Hey," Ellis suddenly piped up, looking startled with himself, "Didn't Nick grow up 'ere?"

There was a long, empty pause in the conversation. Rochelle turned and glanced at Ellis, "I think he might've… I mean, I'm sure I've heard him mention it before, but he talks about the place like he avoids it."

Coach nodded agreeably, "You'd think that a gambler would hang around this place."

Before anyone could reply, a piercing shriek rang through the air.

"That there sounds like a Hunter." Coach muttered, "Steady, folks."

Ellis was the one who spotted the Hunter, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and shrieking in what looked like a panic. He didn't fire immediately, just watching uncertainly.

"What's-… there's the Hunter…" Rochelle trailed off into silence as the Hunter reared back and let out the _loudest_ "ca-caw" she had ever heard. It was the exact same noise that Ellis made on the occasions when he got dragged away by a Smoker, freed himself, and then couldn't find the rest of the team. He'd used it often in Dublin, and Nick had even picked up on it a bit after a while.

Ellis was gone only a second later, running towards the Hunter. He cupped his hands around his mouth and cawed at him. The Hunter froze, turning to look at him with a look of utter stupidity and surprise on his face. He waved his arms excitedly.

"DAL!" He cried, "It's me! Ellis!"

The Hunter hopped off the roof and bounded at Ellis, slamming into him and nearly knocking him off his feet as he gripped him in the tightest hug known to man. Coach and Rochelle ran over to join the mechanic, taking their turns at greeting Dal.

"Where's Nick?" Ellis said it first. Dal seemed to remember what he'd been doing. He took a step back and started shrieking again, cawing some more and making panicked gestures at the trio.

"He's gone?"

"Ran away?"

Rochelle looked worried, "You can't find him?" Dal point at her and nodded, looking like he was about to start bawling. The trio exchanged nervous glances as they considered what may have become of the conman. Finally, Ellis summed up his determination.

"We'll help you find 'im." He said quickly, "Let's try goin' back this way. He can't have gone far, right?"

.

Agony wasn't usually this bad. He couldn't move a muscle; Scott had run off somewhere, perhaps hiding in wait to kill anyone who tried to save Nick. Nick, on the other hand, was lying in what would soon be a puddle of his own blood. Scott had, once he'd hit his brother hard enough to stun him, torn him to shreds. His ribs were likely cracked from the initial kicks he'd taken to the chest, and there were these five deep, ugly gashes on his right side, where Scott had dug his nails in and refused to let go until Nick was all but screaming in pain.

He was sure he had scratches on his bones at this point.

He was also _freezing_. His once warm and thick jacket was now stained and wet from the blood, and the wetness was only making the icy breeze that had decided to come into the store colder. He shivered involuntarily; the movements making his wounds erupt with agony. He groaned, clenching his teeth and trying to remain still. If he just _didn't move_, then maybe he would live in the end or maybe die faster and easier.

"Nick!"

His vision was foggy, and beginning to double up. He shivered again, and groaned again, and shut his eyes and clenched his teeth and tried not to breath. If they came in here, whoever they were, and found him, Scott would come back and then he'd end up in worse pain than he was already in, because Scott had this thing about making Nick suffer for other people's faults.

He heard a giggle, and a thud. _No, no, no_, he thought, _stay up there. Leave me alone. Go away. Fucking kill yourself._

Scott didn't arrive at his side like he had thought he would. He heard a crunch of glass, and the laughter died away. He was gone, apparently bored with the idea of watching Nick suffer after staring at him for nearly ten minutes.

"Nick!" That voice was closer. A lot closer.

Using the last of the strength left in his body, Nick took a deep, agonizing breath, and cawed as loudly as his throat would allow. The cawing was soon followed by a cry of anguish; the wounds that had begun to congeal from the blood and had perhaps stopped hemorrhaging had reopened from the expanding of his chest. He was bleeding again.

He swore, trying to muster up the strength to move, to get to a spot where they would be able to see him, but he could not get his frozen muscles to function and it was so cold and he was probably going to have bled out by the time those morons found him.

Whoever those morons were.

The footsteps returned, but this time there were many of them, and they were hasty and conveyed a kind of concerned terror that he didn't like. He cracked open his eyes and found himself staring up at the horrified face of Rochelle. Behind her, Ellis could be seen getting to his knees and unloading a medical kit. Coach's heavier footsteps arrived, his older lungs gasping and unable to keep up with 'them young'uns.'

Rochelle turned to Ellis hastily, "I'm gonna go and find a blanket – he's gonna freeze if we don't warm him up. Coach, Ellis, I want you two to put him on a counter. That one," She pointed hastily as she stood up, "Just put him there and… and wait for me!"

Without another word, she sprinted away. Ellis and Coach didn't waste any time, "You get his arm, I'll…" Coach just nodded, scooping Nick up under his arms and waiting for Ellis to situate a decent method of carrying the conman's lower half.

"On three…" Ellis said, "One, two…"

"Three!" It was like lifting an empty suitcase that you had thought was full. Nick was incredibly light, to the point where Ellis was wondering if he was even at a healthy weight for a man his height. He'd picked up Keith with help before, and the hick was about the same height that Nick was.

But Keith had _never_ been this light, even when he'd gone through an alcoholic phase where he'd eaten almost nothing and drank only beer.

Nick was shivering; he could feel it as they lifted him onto the countertop and set him down. The shaking was more than noticeable, and Ellis glanced up at Coach for a brief moment.

"He…" Ellis mumbled, "He's awf'lly light…"

Coach seemed to be thinking almost the exact same thing, though he didn't seem to want to make any assumptions, "Ellis, fetch the…"

The mechanic nodded mutely in understanding, hurrying over to the medical pack that he'd abandoned. He looked up in time to see Rochelle running towards them with a thick quilt. She stood on standby as Coach, working like lightning, cut off Nick's shirt and started bandaging the injuries.

Nick had fainted, either from blood loss or from sheer exhaustion, they didn't know. He was completely unresponsive, even when Coach was spreading gauze bandages over the deep lacerations over his ribs. By the time he'd finished with the gauze, the ones he'd bandaged first were already soaked.

Rochelle stepped in, "We'll patch him up better when we get him indoors," She mumbled, wrapping him up tightly int the blanket, "Dal, can you…?" She looked around, eyes wide.

"Dal!"

Ellis swallowed, "He uh… ran down an alleyway next to this place when we were comin' in."

Coach nodded, "He probably went to… take care of whoever attacked Nick."

Rochelle bit her lip, "Can you two…?" They nodded in unison. Coach taught Ellis a certain manner of carrying, where they would be on either side of Nick.

"It'll be easier on both of us. Better weight distribution…" Ellis only nodded.

The conman didn't even wince when they picked him up again, though the shivering only got worse when they went outside. It had started snowing again, so they walked faster than what looked safe to Rochelle, who was carrying the weapons and supplies in return for Coach and Ellis carrying Nick.

The indoors of the house was a lot warmer than they had been suspecting. There was a fire going, and the heat was like heaven. Ellis and Coach laid Nick down again, this time on the couch.

The conman's eyes fluttered open again as Rochelle was pulling out more gauze, his face pale and tired. He turned his head ever so slightly to look at the trio standing over him.

"Whe…" He cleared his throat and tried again, "Where… is Scott…?"

"Who?"

"Th… Fucking…" He seemed to be having trouble forming words with his numb jaw, "Jockey… Did he leave… for real?"

Ellis finally spoke up, "I think Dal went off to take care of… uh… Scott."

Nick looked at him very seriously. There was a pause, and then the conman suddenly sat up, "N-no…" He grunted, "Dal… He'll tear him apart…"

"Well, Dal might-…"

"Nick, sit down."

"Dal can take care of…"

Nick shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, "He was already strong before he went and lost his damn mind. Dal… I gotta make sure he doesn't get _killed_."

Rochelle was forcing him back onto the couch, "Ellis, Coach, go find Dal. I'll be fine here." She snapped, "Nick, _sit down_!"

The two under command nodded, grabbing their guns off the coffee table and hurrying outside. Nick looked up at Rochelle, his expression lost and confused.

"Are you…" The door slammed up, "Are you guys really…?"

Rochelle gingerly pulled him into a soft embrace. He relaxed in her arms, letting out a shaky sigh of what might've been relief.

"Yea… we came back for you…"

* * *

**A/N**

**Just to let you know, I the Author, gagged and made myself sick when I was writing the scene where Nick was getting spiders in his mouth. Yea. I nearly died.**

**Rochelle's words about guys with no nerves is based off my own experience. The guys I know seem to not notice when it's -300 degrees outside. I don't get it.**

**Oh, and yaaay! Nick and the group have been reunited! And yay, I was able to get rid of Zoey and Francis without too much trouble! And OMFG WHERE IS DAL _THIS TIME_****?**  



	17. Runaway

**_Chapter XVII_**

…

When Rochelle opened her eyes that morning, she was met with a muffled sound of talking that was coming from downstairs. After taking a few minutes to wake herself up, she clambered out of Nick's bed, and headed for his bedroom door. Coach had taken the master bedroom, Ellis was in "Scott's room" and Nick had decided that he hadn't wanted to abandon the stained couch.

She started down the hall and soon found herself paused halfway down the stairs. Nick was on the far side of the couch, leaning against the arm of the furniture with his knees bent partially towards his chest, as though he had attempted to curl up but found it too painful.

"Nick," She greeted with a sleepy smile. "Are you feeling…?" He looked up at her, eyes half-lidded as though he were drunk and bloodshot as though he'd been rubbing at them. He lifted a hand that was clutching the remote to the TV and waved half-heartedly before returning his attention to the screen.

_"It's been a while since I last saw Nikki. He should be 16 by now."_ An unfamiliar voice was coming out of the television. Rochelle continued down the stairs, glancing at the screen.

"What are you watching?" She asked.

"Scott's 'home videos.' There was nothing else to do." He replied, letting out a heavy sigh, "I didn't recognize most of the titles, so I'm guessing he was carrying them around until he got here and lost his mind."

"You never did tell me who Scott was."

Nick's expression went sour as he frowned at the screen, "He's my older brother." He muttered. Rochelle walked over and watched the screen, standing beside the couch.

"You can sit down," the conman said, bending his knees a bit more to make room. Rochelle thanked him quietly and took a seat beside him.

They followed Scott's vision as he pulled a key out from under the welcome mat in front of the house. He opened the door and walked inside, kicking off his shoes and entering the living room.

"I'm not sure when, or how he did it," Nick muttered absentmindedly, "But he always had what looked like one of the little cameras FBI agents used. He attached it to a collar that he used to wear." Rochelle glanced sideways at him, but winced and turned back to the TV when she heard a bang from it.

"Wha-…?" She trailed off as Scott's line of vision started walking towards the stairs. Nick tensed visibly as he heard the yelling from upstairs.

"This is from when Dad caught Trisha in my room…" His voice was quiet, though he made sure to be loud enough for Rochelle to pick up on. Scott was moving faster now, taking the stairs two at a time. Nick's bedroom door was thrown open. Trisha, the blonde slut that Nick had previously mentioned to Rochelle, was standing by the door, drunk and barely aware of the damage. Nick's Dad was all but screaming at his youngest son as Nick himself slid down the wall, barely conscious after having his head smashed into the window on the opposite side of the room from Scott.

When the door had been thrown open, an eerie silence had befallen the room. Dad turned to look at Scott, his face red from anger. Nick was bleeding; he was shaking all over, and blood was dripping down the side of his face and moistening his black hair.

_"Nikki?_!_"_ Scott brushed past the father, and Nick and Rochelle could tell that he had knelt down in front of him, reaching out and touching his shoulder, shaking him gently.

The younger Nick in the television was unresponsive. Scott stood up suddenly. Nick blinked, looking surprised. He didn't recognize this part. It was only a moment later when he was forced to turn down the volume as Scott started yelling at their father, pointing an accusing hand at Trisha as he made his point clear.

_"YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!"_

"Whassis?" Ellis' southern accent was unmistakable as he appeared beside the couch, tilting his head curiously. Nick didn't reply. Rochelle scooted closer to the conman as she muttered "home videos, apparently" to the younger man. Ellis had arrived in time to watch Scott turn back to Nick, still motionless on the floor, and pick him up a bit too easily.

"He said you were 16, didn't he?" Rochelle mumbled, "You look awfully thin…"

Nick nodded silently in agreement, his mouth dry as he turned to face the two that were staring at him in worry, "I had lost a lot of weight…"

Ellis blinked, "How come?"

Nick frowned slightly, "Because I didn't make dinner by the time Dad came home two weeks prior, so I wasn't being fed very much."

They both blanched, exchanging glances. Ellis finally spoke up again as Nick climbed off the couch stiffly to go through the pile that Scott had left behind. It was obvious that he was bored.

"Yea…" Ellis began slowly, "Yer awful light now, Nick…"

The conman halted his movement and turned to face Ellis, "What?"

"Me n' Coach had to pick you up in that store. I mean, I've had to pick you up before wit' Coach's help, but ya' weren't as light now as you were before…"

Nick frowned deeply before turning back to the pile, "Dal and I haven't been spending much time pausing to rest and eat since… since the New Orleans fiasco. It's been pretty much non-stop driving since we left Louisiana."

"Driving? Where's your car?"

Nick snorted, "In a ditch somewhere. You shouldn't drive when you've been skipping meals and not sleeping for several days."

Ellis and Rochelle exchanged looks of surprise. Nick lifted one of the DVDs up off the floor and stared at it.

"Runaway?" He said aloud, "He fucking taped _that_?" He shook his head, but eventually stood up with the aforementioned movie and put it in to play. By the time he had returned to the couch, it was already prepared by the DVD player.

"What're you kids doin' so early?" Coach called as he came down the stairs. Nick looked up.

"We're watching my youth." He replied airily, "Have a seat. It's a party in here."

Coach sat down in the loveseat beside the couch, yawning widely. Nick stood up again.

"I guess this calls for breakfast, huh?" He thought aloud, cracking his knuckles and heading for the kitchen. Rochelle stood up after him.

"I can do it-…" She said, "You shouldn't be up and about so much."

Nick shook his head, "I've had to cook under worse conditions." He replied. He paused, looking thoughtful, "But if you wanna help, you can."

She nodded and followed him into the kitchen. Nick instinctively paused in the doorway and looking up at the ceiling with a scowl.

"What?"

He didn't reply at first, walking into the room and making a sweep with his eyes as he stooped to pick up the frying pan and knife that had been abandoned on the floor. "Last time I was in here, Scott nearly got me to kill him."

"How so?" Rochelle asked, looking slightly confused.

He shook his head, "I wouldn't want you to lose your appetite." He spotted a small spider on the floor and made a point on slamming his foot down on its tiny body. A look of disgust crossed his features before he placed the knife and pan in the sink. The blade would have to be washed thoroughly, as Nick clearly remembered slashing open Scott's arm with it.

The pot that Scott had used the day before to make that chicken noodle soup was sitting on the stove, empty. Nick handed it to Rochelle, instructed her to wash that and the knife, while he raided the cupboards to see what they had.

To his astonishment, the refrigerator was still functioning, and within it were a lot of ingredients. He hadn't even opened it prior to now, simply assuming that it was like the rest of them and didn't work.

His mind was beginning to wander, a stupor from the lack of rest making his thoughts blur worse than the smear of blood on the floor. His vision faded in an out for a moment as his head pounded. Scott was still out there somewhere, likely waiting for him to come outside so he could either finish him off or torment him further. He seemed to have retained a certain chunk of memory, or at least he hadn't forgotten Nick.

But the point was that Scott was still alive.

A wave of anxiety washed over him. Rochelle and Coach had said to wait a day before the four of them collectively went out to search more thoroughly for Dal. Ellis had come back defeated and upset after his and Coach's treacherous search and rescue mission had failed. If Scott was still alive, then Dal could be dead or injured or sick or he could be in the process of dying and desperately searching for Nick in hopes that he could be found and comforted and Nick was nowhere near him and didn't know where he could possibly be and why did the kid keep running away from him and hiding and disappearing and making him worry…

"Nick?" He winced and looked over at Rochelle as she ripped him violently out of his thoughts. His stomach lurched, and he clenched his teeth, staring at her with slightly wide eyes. Her hands were clutching a towel as she dried her hands. "You okay?"

Nod.

.

Nick had known the instant it had started making sense for him to go out at midnight to search for Dal - alone – that something was wrong with his head. Likely not a physical injury, but he knew that something wasn't right. It was hard to see straight at time, and that was just adding to the list of reasons for him to go back to the house.

However, it was 4 in the morning at this point, and he had been walking through the centre of the city for nearly two hours, searching hopelessly for Dal. The streetlights were still working, though a great many of them had blown out already. Of course, there seemed to be enough lights in general that the broken ones weren't much to worry about.

Nick glanced up at the sky warily, his eyes scanning rooftops. Shadows were dancing around in the darkness where he couldn't see properly, mocking him and fooling around. He frowned and continued on, thankful that the Closet of Boots That Once Were had still been full when he'd raided it, because there was a ridiculous amount of snow on the ground. Nick had taken a moment to wonder where the plows were, and then he remembered that it was a zombie apocalypse and there _weren't_ any plows.

There was a note on the wine-stained couch, out in plain site for Rochelle or Ellis or Coach to find. It was a simple note, only telling them that he had gone out to search for Dal and that he wouldn't be back for a long time, and by the way stay in the house because he really didn't want to come back with Dal and find them all gone and then have to leave again to hunt them all down.

Nick was assuming that he was going to be able to find Dal.

He shivered, wincing as his wounds throbbed in protest. He had actually forgotten about them. He pulled the bottle of painkillers out of his coat pocket and swallowed three of them dry. Or had that been two? Damn it.

Dark blotches were moving around in front of his eyes, but Nick was somehow managing to get by with them there. He reached up more than once to rub them out of his eyes, but it wasn't exactly helping. Scott was somewhere along the rooftops, hopping along and snickering at his misfortune.

"Nikki! Nikki! Nikki!" He could hear him calling, but didn't dare stop to turn around and seek him out. If he was lucky, Scott would lose interest like the ADHD Jockey that he was and leave him alone if he was ignored for long enough.

For a split second, the darkness was absolute. Nick stopped in his tracks, blinking and trying to correct his blurred vision. The darkness faded as someone grabbed his wrist, wrenching him forward into the coldest body he'd ever felt. Scott wrapped his arms around him tightly, and Nick could hear him crying as he stiffened to the point where he felt like a wooden board.

"S-Scott?" He all but squeaked. He winced as pain erupted in his abdomen when Scott tightened his grip.

"N-Nikki…" He breathed, "I ha-had a nightmare…"

_"What-…?" Nick groped through the darkness for his lamp and clicked it on, blearily adjusting his position to a slightly more comfortable one. Scott hugged him tighter and mumbled something incoherent._

_"What?" He asked. Scott repeated himself a bit louder._

_"You died… Or something… I don't…"_

_"I'm not dead, Scott," Nick replied in exasperation, "What's wrong with you lately?"_

_Scott was surreptitiously climbing into Nick's bed, shoving the younger over and slipping under the covers. He didn't let go of Nick for more than a few seconds as he shivered._

_"What the-…Get out of my bed!" Nick hissed, attempting to free himself from the iron grip and not succeeding. Scott shook his head against the younger's neck, and then proceeded to bite him to get him to shut up and stop complaining._

_"I'm sleeping here tonight…"_

The snow was very cold when Nick slowly cracked his eyes open. The sky was very dark. He sat up slowly, never noticing the numbness and the chills throughout his entire body. His vision was so blurry, he could hardly see. He reached up with one hand and rubbed his eyes as he slowly stood up. He was shaking all over, his body weak and exhausted and wanting nothing more than rest.

Did he just pass out?

He was surprised that he hadn't woken up in a pool of his own blood. Was Scott perhaps _not_ following him after all? Was it possible that the fresh Jockey was gone, or had something happened? He was confused more than anything, and his completely warped mind was ruining his ability to figure anything out in the first place.

He started walking again.

Nick could hardly feel where his feet were, but he wasn't even beginning to associate it with the subzero cold. He could hear the crunching of snow behind him, but Nick was effectively ignoring it. It was probably more shadows. Or maybe it was just Scott, stalking him and preparing to go in for the kill.

He slowed down; the footsteps did too. That was definitely Scott; anyone else would've just followed him. Or maybe it was…

Maybe it was _Dal_.

Overcome by the sudden urge to make sure, Nick came to an abrupt stop and turned. He could hear the darkness laughing at him again, and he clenched his jaw to the point that it hurt.

There was no one there.

He shook his head and turned back around, continuing forward with a kind of hopelessness that he hadn't experienced since Scott had abandoned him in their parent's house.

"I didn't abandon you." He looked up, startled. Scott stood there, hands deep in his pocket and head slightly tilted. He was frowning for a change.

"I don't care. Leave me alone."

Scott took up a stride beside him, trying to get him to pay attention, "If you didn't care, why are you thinking about it now, like… 15 years later and during an apocalypse?"

Nick shook his head, "I'm not going to have this conversation with you." He wrung his hands irritably, "_You_ aren't even _real!_ Go away!"

Of all the people he could be hallucinating into his bubble, he had to pick Scott. Was this a subconscious desire for company and a lack of imagination, or was this just his mind making fun of him?

"Nikki! Nikki!" He turned to face the Scott beside him, but he was gone. That was the real one he was listening to. Nick suddenly remembered that he hadn't brought anyone with him. He had a… Wait. Where did his gun go?

_I probably left it back there when I woke up._ He thought bitterly. Yea, he was probably gonna die.

He was tired of fighting anyway; dying seemed like a good idea at this point. He picked up on a soft growl, but didn't stop walking. Laughter, growl, laughter, growl. He was beginning to have trouble distinguishing what was just his crazy mind overworking itself, and what was actually real.

Was there even a distinguishing point? Perhaps they were all real, or perhaps it was all just a dream. Perhaps he would wake up, still sleeping on the couch. Perhaps he would wake up, still in that random house after crashing the Santa Fe. Perhaps he would wake up with the entire team in Louisiana again.

_When did I start losing my mind?_

Had this started when he'd crashed that stupid helicopter? Perhaps the beginning of the infection? Maybe this entire infection was just a dream. Maybe he'd wake up after being comatose for several days in Scott's house. Maybe this insanity dated back to when he had run away.

"Why did you run?"

He responding without thinking, "He was gonna kill me…"

"You could've just stayed."

"Why would I have stayed with you? You would've made me kill myself."

Scott looked hurt by Nick's bitter words. He reached out to grab the conman's shoulder but missed. His hand sank through Nick's body. He jumped in front of him instead, forcing Nick to stop.

"Nikki! Nikki!"

"Nick!"

"Nick, where are you?"

"Nikki, stop daydreaming-…!"

"NIKKI! NIKKI! NIKKI!"

He reached up and pressed his hands to his ears, trying to block out the racket in his head as he sank to his knees, gasping. It was suddenly too hard to breath. He choked on the frozen air and doubled over as his lungs began to burn. Was he hyperventilating?

Scott took his wrists gently and leaned forward, wanting to be heard. The noise was dying down as his ears began to ring, "I changed; don't you remember?"

"I don't."

"Nikki," Scott's voice was serious, the tone making it hard to look away. Nick knew he wasn't real. He knew that the majority of the past several hours he'd spent outside had been spent with him hallucinating, with him dreaming and fainting and losing his mind.

_I need to sleep…_

"Listen," Scott shook him slightly, pulling him back harshly, "When you ran away you were 18. I picked you up at the corner, because you called me. I tried to help, you didn't want it."

_"Nikki, why do you keep going back?"_

_Nick didn't respond, staring out the window. Scott tapped his arm to tell him that he wasn't asking a rhetorical question. Nick was chewing the inside of his mouth._

_"I don't have the means to live alone."_

_"You could stay with me. Until you can get out for good."_

_"I don't want your pity."_

_"I'm not pitying you."_

_"Then what would you call it?"_

_Scott swallowed a lump in his throat as he pulled over on the highway, nearly scraping Nick's door against the guardrail as he parked ridiculously close to it. He grabbed his brother's shoulder and wrenched him over to face him. His eyes were smoldering with a mixture of anger and hurt, "I'm not so stupid as to pity a bastard child who wouldn't give me anything in return for my troubles."_

"You didn't change," Nick ground out, "You made it worse."

Scott pulled back, chewing his imaginary tongue, "You were dying, Nick."

"I wasn't."

"You were nearly 20 pounds underweight."

He remembered that part; the painful nausea that he had gotten from not eating, and then the adaptation to not eating that had resulted in him not wanting to eat. Even when he had known that he _needed_ to feed himself or he would likely die, he hadn't been able to keep anything down.

It had resulted in him passing out one day when Scott was out. He clearly remembered waking up in a hospital with an IV in his arm.

"If you don't get up," Scott mumbled over the sound of growling, the sound of distant yelling, and the sound of laughter, "You're gonna get frostbite and die."

Nick nodded solemnly, managing to start the slow process of standing up. The growling had gotten louder, but Nick was still sure that he was just losing his mind.

"Nikki-…" Scott sounded nervous. That probably meant something about his actual state of mind. Nick looked up, met with a Hunter that he only barely recognized. The conman's mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

He froze like a deer in headlights, and croaked, "Dal?" His own voice rather startled him; he ought to consider getting something to drink at some point.

Dal was creeping forward on all fours, a position Nick hadn't seen him utilize in weeks. Something was wrong; he was growling menacingly. Maybe Scott _was_ real, and Nick was making a mistake by ignoring him.

"NIKKI! NIKKI!" He winced noticeably and turned suddenly, searching for his brother's actual body. He heard an enraged shriek and turned back to face Dal, though by the time he'd spotted the Hunter he had been slammed into the ground.

Suddenly, Nick understood why Dal had gone missing, and why he hadn't been able to find him, and why he had done this before and gone missing without a trace, only to return a day later. It made perfect sense.

After all, Dal was a Hunter, and Nick had seen before what he was capable of doing when unable to control himself.

_He was probably just protecting me…_

Scott was standing behind Dal, staring over the Hunter's shoulder. Nick bit his lip and swore, grabbing Dal's wrists before he could do anymore damage than he already had. Nick was surprised that he couldn't feel much of anything. His body was numb, and his arms felt weak, but he was doing a decent job restraining the Hunter that was presently trying to kill him.

"DAL!" He barked in a commanding tone, "Snap out of it!" The Hunter didn't reply other than to shriek angrily at him. He freed one of his arms and used the opportunity to attack, slashing at the other arm that was still partially restraining him. Nick managed to pull back fast enough to avoid any deep wounds, but his sleeve was officially in tatters.

Not like he was worried about that at the moment.

He wasn't about to give up, whether Dal was in his right state of mind or not. He pulled back his fist and punched him across the face, tackling him to the ground. They wrestled violently in the deep snow, Dal screaming angrily and slashing at every given opportunity.

He grabbed the front of Dal's hoodie and wrenched him forward, nearly smashing their heads together. He couldn't see the Hunter's face past his hair and through the darkness, but it didn't matter at that point because Nick didn't need to see his face to know that some part of him was listening.

But he had nothing to say.

Dal shrieked again, insanity and rage in his eyes. He was long gone, and he was probably not coming back.

_He doesn't recognize me._

It only took a split second of distraction for Dal to attack him again, pinning him down in the snow as lifting his hands to start attacking again.

_I'll make him recognize me_. He was sure that the wounds he'd received from Scott were bleeding, and he was sure that his entire body was going to be too numb from exhaustion and the cold for him to be able to operate it for much long, but he wouldn't go down without a fight.

_Fuck, I'm not going down at all_.

His eyes narrowed as Dal started shrieking again, something wordless, perhaps a garbled attempt at communication with other infected. He didn't care. Nick shoved his wrist in the Hunter's mouth, and clenched his teeth in pain when he bit down. If the taste of blood didn't remind him that he wasn't a monster, nothing would.

There was a pause as warmth ran its way down Nick's arm, dripping onto his coat and staining the fabric. Dal shuddered, and pulled away, blood staining his chin. Nick retracted his arm the moment in was free and cursed; he had expected a decent amount of pain, but he hadn't thought that Dal would bite him quite _that_ hard.

The weight left him suddenly, and when he looked up he saw that Dal had all but fallen off him. He was crying, and Nick could see the flight instinct approaching. The Hunter turned away and prepared to jump away, but Nick dove from his spot in the snow and grabbed his hoodie again

"Nick!" He could hear the others yelling, but he wasn't exactly concerned. They were a lot closer than he remembered them being. He pulled the pistol that he had forgotten about off his hip and pointed it at Dal's head, a crazed kind of terror in his eyes.

"Leave!" he snarled, "Try it! I _fucking dare you_!"

Dal froze, trembling all over. Nick was clutching his shoulder, holding him down effectively, a knee all but crushing his thigh. The little bastard wasn't going _anywhere_.

"You keep _disappearing_-…" He trailed off, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He didn't let up, shutting his eyes as a pounding headache arrived and made itself known, "I… We regroup after _fucking ever_ and I close my eyes for maybe _a minute_ and the next thing I know you're fucking _gone!_"

He was, at that point, gasping for air. He could hardly take in a breath. He was hyperventilating again, probably even having a panic attack out of seemingly nowhere. He couldn't keep this up much longer; this whole killing everyone and barely surviving bullshit. He couldn't keep up the façade of "yea, I'm fine" if Dal kept disappearing; if they couldn't just _stay together_. He couldn't keep going if he was constantly looking for everyone, unsure of whom was alive and who had died.

He fell off of Dal; his gun lost in the snow, and pressed a hand to his chest as his airways constricted. Dal whimpered, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him gently.

"If y-you ke-keep…" He choked out past the pain, "Running away, and no-not coming b-back…"

"Nick?_!_"

He collapsed forward, and Dal caught him, whimpering softly and rocking him back and forth. He could hear the crunch of the snow as the other three survivors arrived at their side. Coach pulled him away from Dal, rubbing his back.

"Just breathe, Nick," He said soothingly.

"Fuck…" Nick wheezed. His ears were ringing again, and sensation began to drift away. Scott walked over from seemingly nowhere and crouched down in front of him, staring at him expectantly. The grin was all but condescending, and he was talking to him. He was saying something, but the words were too quiet to hear.

Nick ignored him, allowing his eyes to slip shut and the darkness to embrace him.

* * *

**A/N**

**THAT WAS A CLOSE CALL. WHEW. JESUS BAWLS. MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS. NICK JUST ALMOST KICKED IT.**

**You know, I expected to get more comments about how nasty I am during the previous chapter. I guess you guys are just sick and twisted like that. :P  
**

**Anyway, I'm sure everyone's wondering why Nick was losing his mind, because I'm sure the greater majority of you haven't been paying any attention, and the other greater majority of you just don't know as much about sleep and stuff as I do. Nick was hallucinating, delusional, and continuously fainting because _he hasn't slept_ more that maybe three hours in the past week and a half. Maybe three hours is a bit of an exaggeration. He might've been sleeping for an hour or two every couple days, but generally speaking he became a classified chronic insomniac around the same time he got left behind. That's why he crashed the Santa Fe; he was so tired that he was falling asleep behind the wheel and his foot didn't feel like it was that heavy on the gas, but apparently it was.**

**IT'S STRESS. He's going to be sleeping almost non-stop for the next day or so, but I'm not going to write about that. NEXT CHAPTER IS PROBABLY GOING TO BE A RATHER SUDDEN JUMP TOWARDS THE END OF THE STORY. OMG TIME FOR SOME SURPRISES.  
**


	18. Of Carriers and Kisses Showered

**_XVIII_**

…

Nick had made a new rule.

No one was allowed to go anywhere without company. The others would stay at the house, no matter how long it took for the foragers to return. Nick had thoroughly explained that anyone who didn't obey his rules would be locked in the basement for an unspecified amount of time. They had agreed to his one and only condition.

The snow had piled up rather high, and Nick was still wishing that the plows would come through even though he knew they weren't going to. He and Ellis were trekking through nearly half a foot of snow, each wearing a pair of boots from The Closet. Nick knew that Scott was still out somewhere, probably even right behind them with a keen eye on his little brother.

He scowled, though Ellis didn't seem to notice. The southerner didn't look at all like he felt at home in the northern part of the States, though he seemed to be fine with adapting to the cold.

"So, Nick," Ellis was talking to him. It took Nick a moment to register this fact. "What kinda person is Scott?"

"He's a crazy motherfucker who needs to die." Nick stated nonchalantly, "Why? Are you thinking that I should introduce you?"

Ellis snorted, "You suck at answerin' questions."

Nick shrugged, "You suck at asking them." Nick paused, glancing sideways at Ellis, "Why do you care?"

The younger man looked thrown off by Nick's sudden counter. He shrank back, looking as if he thought he'd pressed the wrong button, "Oh, well, ya see…" He trailed off.

"What, you don't want to leave this to your imagination?" Nick paused, and sighed, seeing that Ellis looked unhappy, if not a little nervous that he'd said anything in the first place. The conman thought for a moment before deciding that it wouldn't hurt to give Ellis a little inside info. "Scott used to bully me, Dad enslaved me, Mom was drunk, and Trisha was a bitch. That sums up my entire childhood."

"Who's Trisha?"

_Oh, crap._ "She was…"

There was a lengthy pause in the conversation as Nick chewed his tongue, trying to think of a way to describe Trisha that would keep Ellis from digging too deep and keep the notion that she was slime.

But there wasn't really a way to put it that would be gentle, "My Dad's sideline girlfriend. Mom was in rehab a lot," He began slowly, unsure of how much he wanted to divulge, "And when she was in rehab, Dad would have Trisha live at our house."

"She wasn't very nice, I guess." Ellis mumbled, looking a bit more confident now that he knew Nick wasn't going to yell. The conman snorted.

"Are you kidding?" He said, startling Ellis slightly with the bitterness in his voice, "She was too nice. I was fifteen and she wanted to fuck me, to put it gently."

Ellis looked mortified at the news, "She didn't?"

"Dad would've killed me if she had. So clearly, she didn't."

The silence resumed, and a certain part of Nick's core couldn't help but let out a breath that he'd been holding for the past twenty-five years. Some things needed to be talked through with other people who wouldn't judge, and other things needed to be kept vague.

Ellis was young, and inexperienced. And he adored Nick, so the conman knew he could trust him, even if it was against his moral code. Being with the three other survivors for months, without safety or salvation had come to make a deep imprint on him.

It was almost beginning to feel like he could trust again. Or maybe he already did trust them, and he was only just getting around to noticing it.

_I need to take a nap;_ he thought with an air of sarcasm, _I'm getting all sentimental on myself._

"So," Ellis looked bothered again, "You said Scott lost his mind…?"

Nick nodded, "He became infected. I'm guessing that he just didn't get bit until recently."

There was a brief pause, yet again, "How crazy is crazy?"

The sensation of something crawling in his mouth returned, and Nick had to fight back to urge to gag as he involuntarily shivered. Ellis didn't need to know about that, "Well, for a start, he's turning Jockey." Nick replied, allowing a protective façade to come over him. "Long before he started turning, he was laughing at everything and nothing. He killed Dad. I kinda hope he killed Trisha too."

That last bit slipped out against his will, but Nick regretted nothing. Ellis nodded solemnly.

"Hey, Nick," He mumbled, "If I turned, what do you think I'd turn into?"

Nick shrugged, "I dunno. Maybe a Boomer." When Ellis didn't laugh, Nick quickly understood that the conversation was spiraling into bad news. He looked at the hick, but Ellis wasn't even facing him all the way. He was looking in the opposite direction, eyes grazing the snow half-heartedly.

"Hey," Nick reached out and patted his shoulder irritably, "It's my turn to ask questions, kid."

Ellis turned back to him, looking surprised, "Uh, okay…"

"What's wrong?"

The younger man was chewing on the inside of his cheek, a sign that he didn't want to talk about it. Nick was going to have to dig deep if he wanted to find out what was going on. "Okay then," He began, "Then tell me why you guys didn't stay at the camps? You got taken out of New Orleans, and next thing I know you're up here in New Jersey. What changed?"

Ellis' face went white and he turned again, looking away, "W-well… I… I uh…"

A knot twisted in Nick's stomach, a pit of nervous tension as he began to think of the horrible things that might've surfaced when they'd reached those camps. He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms and serving the purpose of bringing him further out of his shell.

"What is it, El?"

Ellis reached up with a shaking hand and pinched the front of his hat, tugging it down over his eyes, "I… They…"

_Heaven forbid…_

"They said I was a carrier."

"They were wrong."

Ellis chuckled slightly, the sound coming out hollow and frozen, "I thought so too… The… the doc… it was positive all seven times."

The truth sank in slowly, like a knife being gently pushed into his chest. They had stopped walking completely, Ellis turned away from Nick. The younger man was clenching his fist, and Nick could tell that his jaw was clamped tight, possibly to prevent himself from bursting into hysterics.

"S'not a big deal," Ellis mumbled, "I- I mean… I've been livin' out 'ere for a while now, so s'not like anything's changed."

"Do Rochelle and Coach know?" _Are they carriers too?_

Ellis shook his head, "Nah, they're… they're fine. They don' know. I haven't told 'em. They don't need ta' know."

"Ellis."

"I… I feel bad though," He continued to ramble, trembling as he fought back the emotion he'd likely been holding in since he'd received the news in the first place, "I shoulda left Ro and Coach behind. They could've been safe but I didn't wanna be lonely so…"

"Ellis." Nick interjected, grabbing the intrusive hat and pulling it off of Ellis' head. In an instinctive desire to retrieve the stolen possession, Ellis turned to face Nick, his eyes watering.

"Give-…"

"I don't know about the other two," Nick ground out, "But I refuse to leave if even one of us won't be able to come as well."

Ellis looked shocked, his arms dropped as he ceased his attempts to retrieve his hat. Nick watched as his face fell, his gaze lowering to the snowy ground around their ankles, "Nick, ya' don't have to risk yer safety for me…"

Nick gritted his teeth, and smacked Ellis upside the head with his own hat, before snapped at him furiously, "I would be risking my conscience by leaving you."

He received what looked like a pleading groan, "Nick, give me back my hat."

He continued, completely ignoring the request, "Do you really have such a poor opinion of me that you were able to convince yourself that I would just leave a friend as young as you alone out here?"

Ellis looked startled, and it took Nick a brief moment to realize what he'd just said, "Friend?"

He didn't hesitate, "Yea," he replied with a slight smile as he handed Ellis back the cap, "Friend."

"I jus' don't want you guys to be riskin' yer lives for me…"

Nick snorted, turning and beginning to walk again, "Ellis, I've been risking my life for you since I met you. Your presence alone attracts the horde."

He didn't know if it was just the reassurance that he wouldn't be abandoned, or if it was the fact that he now knew that Nick acknowledged him as a friend more than just a nuisance, but Ellis' cheery demeanor returned. He was smiling slightly, though it looked more like a relieved expression than anything. They continued down the street in silence, each unsure of what else they were to expect.

Who knew? Maybe Nick was a carrier too. It would make him feel better at any rate.

.

When they returned, Coach was sitting on the couch, his head lolling back and a soft snore coming out of his mouth, and Rochelle was apparently curled up in Nick's bed upstairs. Nick and Ellis didn't bother being quiet as they all but stomped their way across the living room and thumped around in the kitchen as they put the non-perishables with the non-perishables, and pretty much everything else in the refrigerator. Dal came slinking into the kitchen, looking happy to see Nick.

The conman smiled slightly at him before he returned to what he had been originally doing. The sound of more footsteps could be heard on the stairs on the other side of the wall, and it was safe to assume that Rochelle had returned.

She poked her head into the kitchen, "Nick," She said, "Me and Coach went out back, and we don't think there's enough wood to last us through the winter."

Nick frowned as he pulled open the fridge and crouched down to put the sodas and water away, "Us men folk can chop a tree down. I'm sure Ellis has done it before."

Rochelle gave him a look that instantly said "no" to his brilliant idea, "What do you suggest?"

"We probably have neighbors with firewood. Send Ellis and Coach; you're still recovering, remember?"

And he was; his wounds, though closed for now, still burned and ached if he got too active. He nodded agreeably, "Well, it's a bit late so I think they ought to do this tomorrow."

Rochelle nodded, "Definitely."

Ellis was being oddly quiet, and it wasn't like Rochelle didn't notice, "Ellis, sweetie? You okay?"

Ellis looked up at her, startled. Nick cut in for him, "He's just-…"

"Nick," He heard the younger man mumble ever so quietly.

"A bit of a nervous wreck." The conman finished, "Scott was following us the entire time."

Rochelle looked worried, "He's still alive?"

The conman, on the other hand, looked surprised at her question, "He may be infected now, but he doesn't seem to have completely lost his mind. I mean, he seems to remember me well enough." He added darkly.

"Are you sure you still want to go out without Dal?"

He nodded silently, "I can't trust the fucker to not run off, so yea. He stays here."

Dal whimpered, looking completely pathetic. Nick threw him a nasty glare, and it shut him up instantly.

Once they finished up in the kitchen, the three of them returned to the living room. Coach had woken up, though he seemed to be completely exhausted and not at all willing to get off the couch.

Ellis all but fell into the loveseat and Rochelle called over her shoulder as she began wandering upstairs, "Does the shower work?"

There was a pause. Nick thought for a moment, "Yea, it works. I showered the other day, remember?"

Rochelle nodded after a brief second of jogging her memory, looking slightly excited, "I'm going to go shower, then!"

Nick watched her go, a sigh escaping his mouth, "I'll be in my room." He said, barely making any eye contact to see if the others had heard him. He followed Rochelle's footsteps, pausing in front of his bedroom door and then walking past it, towards the bathroom.

He was standing in front of the bathroom door, about to turn around and walk away from it when something in the pit of his stomach made him stop. He stood there, staring at the crack at the bottom of the doorway. There was a sliver of artificial light, suggesting to him that Rochelle was just the type to turn the light on automatically if she was showering.

He reached up with a hand and hesitated. Eventually, Nick summed up the courage to knock gently. There was a pause, and Rochelle pulled the door open. She was still fully dressed, and looked slightly surprised to see him.

"Hey," she greeted, looking over his shoulder as if she expected something to be there, "Something wrong?"

Nick was smiling. He wasn't entirely sure why but he was smiling. Rochelle tilted her head to the side and smiled as well.

He was walking away a few seconds later, hearing her close the door. Some part of him knew that he had kissed her, and the other was still not positive about what he'd done. Her face had been warm when he'd cupped her cheek, though he knew that it wasn't from a fever.

"_Thank you_."

The funny thing about it was that he'd promised himself _no more relationships_ after Cheryl had died. But could this even be called a relationship? It was more like a slightly intimate dependence on another person for survival. And the intimacy hadn't even occurred previous to his open gesture of affection a few seconds ago.

He walked into his room and went to the window, standing there and staring out at the snowy world. It was a lovely sight. He could barely see his and Ellis' footprints in the deep white, but they were there. The corpse of infected and long dead survivors alike had been completely buried by the snow, save for the ones who had been sitting upright. When he looked out to the city, while it was ravaged and broken, he could see a certain kind of abstract beauty in it.

In an artistic sense, it suited the situation.

Nick, when he had been younger, had been known to lose hours upon hours of the day standing in front of his window and staring out at the world. During the day he would watch the cars go by, sometimes counting them as they passed. He would observe the children outside, running up and down the street and nearly getting run over every few minutes. During the night, he would stare with a rather awestruck look on his face at the brilliant lights. Sometimes, he would be able to catch sight of an airplane in the pink-tinted sky, too bright for stars and barely dark enough for the moon. He would picture what it was like in the casino.

That had been Nick object of obsession; that God damned casino. He would stare at it for hours, until summoned by his father to tend to the house or the cooking or the laundry. He would imagine what kind of things people did in the casinos. He would put himself in a casino and have a good time with his imagination. He had once seen a movie with a casino in it, and he would picture himself getting ping-pong ball sized bomb in his mouth, and then having to spit it on the spinning thing, whatever it was called. Wasn't like he knew, he was only 16. And then the bomb would explode, and he would fight the bad guys.

Of course, when Nick finally got to a casino, his dreams were crushed. They weren't nearly as interesting as he had imagined, but he grew fond of them.

It was the casinos that had encouraged Nick to get a job and try to get out.

"Hey," He turned around, slightly surprised at the sound of Rochelle's voice. She was clean, wet, and wearing his clothes; a blue t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He wondered how they fit her, and then he remembered that he'd been borderline anorexic when he had been younger.

"Hey," He greeted with a charming smile. Rochelle walked over and sat down on the bed, watching him with a slight tilt in her neck.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Nick blinked, looking up at the ceiling as he thought about that for a long, strenuous moment. How long _had_ he been standing there?

"Since I left you to your shower."

She nodded slowly, "Did you used to do this often? Stand there and stare out the window?"

He smiled, looking almost nostalgic, "I used to lose hours staring out this window. Sometimes I would just trace the cracks."

Rochelle sighed, "I used to do something like that with my Mom when I was a kid. We would sit on the porch and just be there, though we only ever did that in the warmer months."

"The only problem with standing here staring off into space," Nick said, glancing to the window again, "Was that I was a prime target for Scott, because I would space out and wouldn't have noticed his presence if he didn't want me to."

"He bullied you a lot, didn't he?"

He glanced at her, looking surprised. She looked slightly upset. Nick didn't like the expression, "He wasn't the worst of it."

"It just…" She trailed off, shaking her head, "It really pisses me off, and always has, when I hear about parents mistreating their children. I mean, it's just _wrong_, you know?"

So, this was about her morals. That meant that he didn't need to worry about her being upset. "I'm not the worst case."

"You might not be," She replied with a heavy sigh, "But you're someone I care about, and that automatically makes it worse in my head."

Nick walked over to the bed and joined her, though he took the initiative and went ahead to lie down. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him, though it wasn't at all surprising. He was still having trouble sleeping, though it had gotten better since they had all been reunited.

Rochelle leaned back as well, resting her head on his arm and getting comfortable. She let out a soft sigh, curling up at his side. Nick smiled contentedly, rolling onto his side to face her and pulling her closer.

Coach barely breathed when he opened the door, a smile appearing on his face as he was greeted with the serene scene of the two sleeping. With a satisfied nod, he pulled away from the room and closed the door behind him silently.

"They're sleepin'?" Ellis asked, a knowing smile on his face. Coach grinned and chuckled.

"They're sleepin' alright." He replied, "And it's for the best; Nick needs the rest."

Dal looked between the two, looking as if he wanted to follow Nick upstairs. Ellis patted the Hunter on the head and grinned cheekily, "You can hang out down 'ere for now, Dal," He said, putting a finger to his lips to signal silence, "We gotta let them lovebirds have their privacy."

Coach snorted, putting up a hand to cover his laughter. He shook his head, looking like a distressed parent, "Ellis, you're somethin' else."

The young man nodded proudly, "That's what Ma used'ta say. I agree with 'er. She used to say that only someone like me could put up wit' Keith. S'why he had no friends."

"Speakin' of Keith, did I ever tell you about this one time…?"

* * *

**A/N**

**Yes, people, I decided that Ellis is a carrier. No, he's not really a carrier in the game. Also, Keith apparently has no friends. I don't know; I can't just picture that somehow. Him only ever hanging out with Ellis, because Ellis is the only person who can handle him. **

**AWWW. ROCHELLE AND NICK'RE SO KEWT!**

**

* * *

**

**Special thanks to _Kate the Night_! She is, so far, my most dedicated reviewer. To answer your question, yes! I plan on publishing when I'm old enough to sign contracts. My mother owns her very own microbusiness-version of a publishing company **brighidsfirebooks dot com**, and she offered to publish my books for me. So far, I've actually already completed one fantasy novel, and I'm in the process of writing two romances. I'm a member of the site **figment dot com**. If you go there and search me up under "Kimmie Baker", you'll find what I've posted in the way of non-fanfiction.**

**Thank you so much for the encouragement _Kate the Night_! I hope that I won't disappoint you.**

**(dot = .)  
**


	19. Cold Snap

**_XIX_**

…

The next several days brought on a cold snap; one of the worst experiences any of them had ever had to go through. The mild cold that they had been easily dealing with hadn't been a problem for Ellis or Coach, even if they had living several states south of New Jersey. The cold snap, however, brought below freezing temperatures, and it wasn't long before even Ellis was having trouble sleeping because of the cold.

They had been drinking hot chocolate like it was their only salvation; keeping the fire going all day and cuddling up in a pile of blankets and body heat on the couch. Nick's wounds were mostly healed, but the shivering of his muscles was agonizing. Rochelle had been doing her poor best to supply him with as much body heat as she could, and Ellis had been leaning on Rochelle somewhat for more heat, and Coach had been sitting rather close to Ellis for his own share of the body heat.

In the end, everyone was kind of leaning on Nick.

He didn't mind too much; in fact, he'd gotten rather comfortable. Dal was sitting on the floor right in front of him, his head in his arms on Nick's lap. The conman had begrudgingly decided that he didn't mind, mainly because the Hunter was keeping his legs warmer than they would've been otherwise. Dal didn't have much of a sense for the cold, but Nick knew that if he did he wouldn't have so easily dismissed the offer of a quilt from Rochelle.

It was subzero in the house. Or at least it sure felt like it.

They ran through their supplies faster than they had thought they would. Despite the frigid cold, they would have to send a duo out to forage as soon as the weather started thinking about warmth. Nick just didn't want anyone going out into the Ice Age and be unable to return, especially, since Scott was probably still out there.

And because of this issue with dwindling supplies, Rochelle and Nick were trekking through the few inches of snow in more or less complete silence. It hadn't taken the younger woman long at all to notice that her partner in foraging was awfully tense. He had been like that for a few days, coming across as if he was about to have another nervous breakdown.

His hands had started to shake the prior day, and he seemed to be having trouble remembering things. Nick had reported that he "wasn't sleeping well", but Rochelle was beginning to think that he probably just wasn't sleeping at all, or if he was it consisted of tense naps and irregular resting of his eyes. She hadn't wanted to let him come with her, originally going to ask Coach or Ellis, but he had been completely determined to go out, even though he had been about to start swearing and yelling by the time she caved.

It took a lot to make Rochelle cave, and Nick looking more or less half-crazed over seemingly nothing was enough by itself without him yelling and cursing at her. She knew that the conman had been under a certain amount of stress when he'd been separated from the rest of the group in New Orleans, but when she'd seen his condition and come to find that he had been forgetting to eat and unable to sleep, it had become clear that Nick was more than stressed about his team.

Something was up, and Rochelle just wished that he would tell her.

Nick slowed in his pace for a moment, and she could see him swaying slightly as he reached up a hand and rubbed his eyes. It was as if he'd forgotten that she was there.

"You okay?" She allowed herself to be concerned, even though she knew he never appreciated it.

He cleared his throat slightly, and sighed, "Yea…" He muttered. A bad feeling was already pitting itself in his stomach. Rochelle was still as petite as she had been when he'd been left behind in New Orleans; if Scott showed his crazy face then she would likely be prime bait for a kick to the chest, and that alone would likely have her out for the count.

But then again, he had not seen hide nor hair of Scott yet, so Nick wasn't even entirely sure why he was so worried.

_Also,_ he thought with a mental punch to his own face, _I'm obviously underestimating her. She's been taking care of herself fine since we met in Savannah._

It was normal for Nick to think Rochelle wasn't as strong as the rest of them. That was likely because she was short and skinny. That wasn't much of an excuse though, because he didn't know many people who could swing an axe quite like Rochelle could.

It would be just like his brother to show up right when Nick was considering the fact that he wasn't there. He could hear the soft laughter, but he wasn't entirely sure if he was just hearing things again or if that was really Scott. It was hard to tell at these times.

"Nick," Rochelle mumbled, "That laughing…"

Understanding quickly enough that Scott's laughing wasn't just a figment of his imagination, Nick nodded mutely, his teeth clenched. He didn't slow down in his pace as much as he probably should've, but Rochelle didn't say anything.

They rounded a corner, stepping down a back street that would've been a shortcut to a Wegmans, according to Nick's memory. The conman didn't even register the blur of darkness that all but flew past him. He heard Rochelle let out a wheezed attempt at a yelp of pain and surprise.

He turned around, eyes wide in surprise; he hadn't even seen him. Had he come from above again, clinging to the streetlight right above them? It was likely, but it didn't matter at that point.

He could hear Rochelle wheezing for air long before he spotted her, pulling herself out of the snow weakly. As Nick was distracted by the urge to assist the young woman, Scott had an opportune moment to attack and he gladly took it. He leapt at his brother, slammed his heels into Nick's chest and slamming him to the ground, laughing hysterically. Nick barely had a moment to inhale before Scott had grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him back off the ground, his back hunched and his legs bent into almost a crouch.

Nick grabbing the wrist that was clutching his unkempt hair eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched. Scott's grip on his hair slackened and disappeared, but only a split second later he had hit the ground again, a bruise likely blossoming on the bone of his cheek. He opened his eyes, dazed and confused. It was snowing again, and the air had become frigid again. He was so cold…

He heard a cry of pain, and his eyes widened; Rochelle!

He managed to pick himself off the ground, his throbbing eyes searching the blinding white snow for a familiar shade of darkness that would point him towards Rochelle and her assailant.

His vision was beginning to clear, and he could vaguely make out Rochelle, pinned down beneath Scott. She was clutching his left arm and keeping it from doing any damage to her person, though her other arm had been seized by Scott.

He was bent over her, and she was all but shrieking as she thrashed beneath him. He groped blindly in the snow, finding something heavy that he could swing and hastily running over to Rochelle's side.

He swung the piece of metal into Scott's side as hard as he could. The infected let out a shriek of pain as he released Rochelle and rolled off her, clutching the fresh wound as he cried out in agony.

Rochelle scrambled to her feet, wheezing and gasping as he pressed a hand to the wound on the crook of her neck. Nick could easily tell that Scott had bitten her, and it didn't exactly make him feel any better. The older brother was on all fours, creeping backwards as his eyes darted between the two survivors. Rochelle had already located the Scar that she had brought with her, and there wasn't even the slightest bit of hesitation in her eyes.

Nick could feel his hands starting to shake again. He wondered if Scott could tell that he was about to… to…

He heard a loud bang, and then someone calling his name.

* * *

**A/N**

**NO, HE'S NOT DEAD!  
**

**Anyway, sorry everyone (especially you, Kate the Night) for taking so long to update! I just haven't been able to persuade myself to write anything past what you see here, and I wasn't originally even going to post this yet because it was _such_ a _short_ chapter and I didn't want you guys to be all pissed off that you waited like, 9 days for me to update and I post like 4 paragraphs.**

**I'll hopefully be able to get out the next chapter ASAP! Kate, you didn't offend me or hurt my feelings at all, I promise. In fact, I was thinking about what you said about "Just one tiny chapter" after I officially ended the actual story. I came up with a few ideas for After The Fact chapters that I WILL write and post, just for my favorite fan! **

**Thank you so much for your dedication; next chapter is the last chapter!**


	20. Solitaire

**_XX_**

**…**

Nick wasn't happy.

He was all but bedridden with illness. The neglect he had bestowed upon himself had resulted in him contracting something akin to a bad case of fatigue and fever. He forced down a sleeping pill every night so that he'd be able to sleep through the night without nightmares and interruptions. Rochelle had started sharing his bed instead of insisting that they all sleep in different rooms. Dal had taken to sleeping at the foot of their bed, curled up like a cat throughout most of the night.

Nick didn't mind the abundance of company, but he felt oddly vulnerable when he wasn't alone in bed. He had become highly prone to nightmares since he'd arrived at his childhood home, and he did _not_ want Rochelle to see him in that state.

They'd only been sharing the bed since he got sick. Three days. He'd been taking sleeping pills and simply not dreaming. Lucky him.

Nick recovered quickly; once he had gotten some sleep and taken a few doses of amoxicillin to fend off any impending infections he began to feel better. The change was almost instantaneous. Ellis' worries were put aside as soon as Nick started leaving his room again, though Coach was sure to keep a steady eye on Nick's health to be sure that he stayed that way.

They pressed him to eat, even though he usually ended up only being able to force down a couple of bites. Rochelle was so upset about it; Nick was beginning to worry that she might have a nervous breakdown. He felt fine, he had told her, and so there was nothing to worry about. She had argued in near-hysterics that he was dropping weight faster than the anorexic girls she'd met in high school. His response had been to tell her that that was probably just because he had more to lose than they had.

It didn't bother him nearly as much as it did everyone else. By this point, his stomach had probably shrank so much anyway that he wouldn't be able to eat a full meal anyway, even if they keep trying to persuade him to take _one more bite_.

Ellis had likened him to a skeleton. There was no way he was that thin. Then again, Ellis was also known for his exaggerations, so it wasn't like Nick was taking him at all seriously.

.

Rochelle's eyes opened when she felt the rather violent wince. She didn't make a sound, regulating her breathing so that she would seem like she was still asleep. Nick was barely controlling his quivering as he pulled her closer and sighed shakily. He was still having nightmares, especially since he'd stopped taking the sleeping pills. She bit her tongue, understanding simply by how he wasn't making any noise that he didn't want her to know that he had been rudely awakened by a bad dream. Nick wasn't the type to allow comforting in any kind of situation, no matter what.

But now she knew what the problem was. They needed to move.

When she woke up again several hours later, Nick was already up and gone. She curled her legs up and sat up, checking for Dal before she stretched out her slightly tense muscles. Nick's unfounded stress and tension was taking its toll on her. Ellis and Coach were just as concerned about him as she was, and she knew that they would back her up when she calmly informed Nick that they weren't spending another day in his childhood home. There were plenty of other places in Atlantic City for them to use as temporary, perhaps permanent housing. They didn't _have_ to stay in the part of town that Nick knew by heart; he had spent the majority of his life in Atlantic City, so he had to know the rest of the area. Besides, if they moved to an area closer to the supermarket, they would be in luck. Especially if they found a Lowe's that would supply them with firewood for the rest of the duration of winter.

And besides, if Nick was desperate to stay in that part of town, they could always just walk around a few blocks and pick another house nearby.

She paused at the top of the stairs and crouched down to see if she could spot Nick on the couch or not. He wasn't there, so she straightened up and started down the stairs. The gentle scent of cooking omelets reached her; he was making breakfast, as he always did. Silently, she stepped into the doorway; his back was to her and he seemed fairly engrossed in the food he was making. She glanced at the countertop; he had taken out four plates. One for Ellis, one for Coach, one for Dal, and one for herself. He didn't intend to eat, and would be just as stubborn as he always was about it.

Her stomach twisted into a knot as she stared at his back. Nick looked just as thin as ever. What she could see of his neck was ghastly white like the rest of him. His hair had gotten longer than he'd ever let it get in the past. Normally, he would've found a way to trim it or complained for days.

He was wasting away right before her eyes, and it was killing her to watch.

Her brown eyes were beginning to water, and she lowered her gaze, taking in a shaking breath. It was a little louder than she had thought it would be. Nick pushed the omelet off the heat and turned to look over his shoulder at her. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her.

"What is it?"

She shook her head, a sudden onslaught of angry emotions swirling around her like a typhoon. Rochelle bit her lip, clenching her fists tightly and looking up at him seriously.

"We're not staying here." She ground out, "Not a day longer."

Nick stared at her for a long moment, looking as if he thought she was kidding at first. He averted his gaze after a moment and returned to cooking, taking the omelet off the pan and putting it on the last place.

"That's stupid, Rochelle," Nick replied calmly, "We don't know if any other houses in this entire state have electricity. For all I know, Scott just came home and turned it on himself."

"Ellis is plenty good enough at what he does, Nick," she snapped, "I'm sure he can figure it out."

"Why do you want to leave?"

"Why don't you? Don't you supposedly hate your parents and brother? Don't you hate this house? You used to talk about avoiding Atlantic City like the plague."

There was an empty silence between them. She could tell what Nick was thinking, and he wasn't telling her anything. "Nick, it's not like we're moving to Florida for the rest of winter."

"This is about me, isn't it?" He muttered, his voice laced with venom, "I've told you about a billion times that I'm fine."

"It's _not_ about you," Rochelle approached him, grabbing his arm and turning him around forcefully. He dropped the salt shaker to the floor, "It's about me. If you aren't going to admit to yourself that you're starving to death, then you can just tell yourself that Rochelle is suffering by watching you waste away."

Nick's eyes were smoldering with anger. "Who said I cared?"

Her hand was burning from the impact to his face as she left the kitchen. Nick reached up and patted his burning cheek. He stooped down and picked up the salt shaker, and went back to making breakfast.

Several minutes passed before Coach walked into the room, yawning widely with Dal at his heels. The older man didn't seem to be aware of his and Rochelle's little spat, and Nick wasn't about to say anything about it.

He turned around and handed Coach the plate containing his preferred omelet.

"Nick," Coach greeted, receiving his breakfast gratefully.

There was a sound of loud, angry footsteps. Nick mentally cursed his luck. So Coach didn't know. Ellis apparently did.

It would be best if they didn't fight in the kitchen. Nick signaled Dal to stay where he was and walked out of the kitchen as Ellis reached the last step. He ignored the mechanic, even though he felt a pair of smoldering blues on his back.

"Nick," he'd never heard Ellis sound so angry. The pit was back in his stomach, a numbing kind of disregard; the same he'd felt towards Rochelle mere minutes ago. At this point, he was thinking about honestly admitting that something was probably broken or snagged in his wiring. Perhaps he should have Ellis open him up and take a look. He was a mechanic after all.

_I'm so tired of this…_The thoughts were fleeting, but he was briefly aware of them. Thoughts of the infection being over, of being able to regain his life again but Nick knew he'd never be able to live a normal life again especially after he'd killed so many people in cold blood but that was self-defense and it was necessary they would never have been cured they would never have gotten better there was no reason to think about it.

Cheryl briefly crossed his mind, and suddenly the boiling pit of rage was stronger than ever. Whatever his mind and body were collaborating without his knowledge, he knew it wasn't a good thing. Ellis was talking to him, and somewhere in the distance he could hear Coach telling the young mechanic to calm down.

Ellis grabbed his shoulder, "Are you even listenin' t'me_?_!" He snarled. Nick's physiological response to being touched was just as strong as ever, and despite his weakness and fatigue, he turned so fast and swung so hard that Ellis stumbled backwards and hit the ground.

Nick glowered down at him, the words falling out faster than he could think of ways to stop them, "I told her, and I'll tell you too; I don't care." He ground out, "Do what you want."

His coat was in his hands and the boots beside the door where on his feet as he stepped outside, the laces flipping around his ankles. It was snowing gently outside, miniscule flakes floating around the air for ages before they touched the ground. He paused once he'd rounded the corner to put on his coat and tie the laces of his boots. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he might as well be warm for the trip.

The casino was, oddly, still more or less intact. The windows on the first story were cracked, and the door was demolished, but inside was pristine, aside from the occasional stain of blood. There were no bodies – and Nick didn't want to know where they had gone. For the third time in his entire life, Nick walked into the building. His eyes wandered the scenario, mind putting images of people becoming ill. Perhaps there had been a lockdown to prevent further infection; perhaps the place had been evacuated, and those showing symptoms were left behind or shot. He didn't know what they had done to people showing symptoms, he didn't know how carriers were treated by the military. He didn't know anything, because he had yet to be given the opportunity for freedom.

Was that was this was? Bitterness? The pit in his stomach had disappeared, leaving him tired and empty. Glass crunched under his feet as he stepped further inside, fingertips just barely sliding over the dark wood of the tables. The cards were strewn everywhere, poker chips lying around lamely.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick caught sight of a single deck; odd that it would be sitting there, untouched, unscathed by the infected. Not a stain on any of the cards. And it was just sitting there.

He walked over to it and picked it up off the poker table that it had been sitting on. It stared at him, and he stared right back. He counted the cards; full deck, not one missing. He still wasn't sure why it was just sitting there instead of being all over the floor.

He couldn't play poker against himself. He couldn't play much of anything, considering he was Just Nick, and not Nick And Rochelle, or Nick And Coach, or Nick And Baby Ellis.

He set up a solitaire game. And he won. So he played again, and again, and again. The light was beginning to dim on his seventeenth game. The seventeenth was proving to be a pain, so he was beginning to consider just cheating. It was getting dark though, so he ought to consider either going back or finding a suite that hadn't been destroyed.

Third floor, suite 325 was a nice room. It was on the side that the sun set, so Nick had a bit more light to work with. He took of the boots and dropped them on the floor beside the bed. He crawled under the covers and let out a sigh, his breath curling into fog. It was very, very cold in the suite, but he didn't care.

He lay there for hours, through the night and into the morning, sleeping sometimes and thinking when he wasn't sleeping. The nightmares were at bay, and some part of him began to wonder if maybe Rochelle _had_ been right, and maybe if he just got out of that house he'd be fine.

_He woke up screaming, Scott shaking his shoulders, "Nikki! Nikki, wake up!" He heard angry footsteps from their father, who appeared in the doorway with a face of mass murder. His older brother was ignoring the authority figure standing in the border of the hallway and Nick's bedroom._

_Nick remembered this. This was after Scott had moved. After he'd run away. After Scott had picked him up off the streets and brought him back to Hell, and agreed to stay over for a few nights until the younger brother was a little bit less anorexic looking._

_He stared wide-eyed at his older brother, trembling all over. The nightmares had started after he'd returned from his first runaway attempt. Being forcibly returned to the place he'd been running from had been all but traumatizing. He lowered his head, letting out a shaky breath. Scott pulled him into a tight embrace, rocking him back and forth gently._

_"It's okay," He whispered, "You're fine…"_

_"Why did you bring me back?"_

His eyes fluttered open, a sigh escaping his lips. He didn't feel anything remotely similar to rested, so he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Another day passed, followed by another night. Nick didn't leave the suite, barely woke up for more than five minutes to use the bathroom – functioning, as Rochelle had guessed. At one point, he took a shower. It helped a bit. He went back to bed afterwards. Most of the time he spent lying there was spent thinking.

He had decided weeks ago that he was going to refuse the opportunity to get to safety, no matter what kind of promises he was offered. Despite his recent fight with Ellis, he had tried to stop breaking promises with himself after Cheryl had died. Besides Ellis, he couldn't bring himself to just leave Dal alone. The Hunter relied on him too much. A pang of guilt ricocheted around his chest; he had thrown fits and had nervous breakdowns when Dal had run away and left him behind, and now he'd gone and done it too. He hadn't even thought of it. He hadn't thought of anyone. He had just wanted to get away and be alone.

Nick wasn't made for company. He had been born as a loner and a jerk. He probably would've been better off fending for himself in a zombie-infested world after all. If he had ditched the others on day one, maybe even day two, where would he be? Dead? Alive? Rescued? Scavenging for a living, like he had been since his arrival in Atlantic City?

_Maybe_, he thought with a heavy sigh_, I should hole up in this casino for the rest of my short life. It'd be a fitting place for me to die._

When he woke up on day four, it was early morning and he was done resting. He pulled out the cards, set up on the floor, and started up another game of solitaire.

The hours passed, and Nick briefly wondered how long he'd been gone. He mulled over his thoughts as he stared at the Jack of Spades and considered whether it would be a smart move to put it on the Queen of Hearts now, or if he wanted to wait and see if he could spot another Six of Clubs elsewhere.

Rochelle was right. He just needed to get out of that house. He'd probably lost even more weight over the past however-many-days he'd been gone, but he felt better. He was rested, and the nightmares were gone. His energy was more or less back now that he'd caught up on his sleeping, and his thought processors appeared to be back online.

But he felt somewhat alive again, now that he was away from that place.

_I need to go back_, he thought abruptly. He scooped the cards into a pile and organized them. They went back into the box. Nick's feet went back into his boots, and his arms back into his coat. He should've gone back on day two, but he had needed the space. However, now he needed to go back and be okay again.

He had nearly died wishing they'd come back to him again; he'd nearly passed out trying to cope with the constant disappearances of individuals. And now they were probably freaking out and using Dal like a blood hound to find him.

The outdoors was a lot colder than the inside of the suite he'd been hiding in. There were no fresh footprints, which actually almost surprised him. One would've thought that the first place to search for a conning gambler would be the nearest casino, but apparently that wasn't the case. Or maybe they had just forgotten that he was indeed a criminal at heart.

Of course, there _was_ also the possibility that Rochelle just didn't know where the casinos were, despite her claims of knowing the city relatively well. She didn't come across as a casino type of person anyway.

He spent only a few seconds wracking his mind to decide a faster route, but stopped himself in mid thought. He wanted to take the long way, so he turned and started walking away from the casino.

He hadn't walked very far – maybe a half a block, when he was met with the sound of a rumbling diesel engine. He raised his head slightly and looked around himself in confusion. There was no way the plows were finally coming through. Not a chance. He didn't believe it.

It wasn't a plow, but it was definitely a military vehicle judging by the camouflage design. He could just barely make out the people driving it, but he wasn't exactly concerned by that. He stood completely still as they brought their giant Hummer-tank to a stop a few yards away from him. They flashed the lights. He didn't move. That was probably a test to see if he responded violently to the bright lights. He had passed.

A pair of soldiers got out, the two of them rushing forward and making hand signals at each other.

Their approach became cautious when one of them made a certain signal while giving Nick's waist a rather hard stare. This confused the conman only slightly. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and placed a wary hand on the pistol attached to his hip. One of the two in front of him drew his own pistol and took aim.

Nick didn't move, knowing full and well that it wouldn't be an issue for either of them if they shot him. Of course, if they _did_ shoot him, the others would know about it and then it would become an issue.

"Not necessary, Jared." One of them spoke up. Better posture, less aggressive. He gave off more of a confidence than the apparent Jared did. He looked like he was probably the one in charge.

Nick turned his gaze on the other one, more aggressive, cocky instead of confident. He was probably a lot younger and less experienced than his partner. He gave off that kind of vibe. Nick suddenly wondered to himself where in the world he had picked up the ability to read people.

"State your name," Confidence spoke calmly, "We don't intend to fight you."

Nick raised his eyebrows and snorted, "Well, other than the zombie's, no one's 'intended' to fight me throughout my entire life. It just kind of happens."

Jared gritted his teeth; he had lowered his weapon, but hadn't put it away. "Answer the question."

"Nick."

"That's your entire name?"

He nodded, scowling. It wasn't like he had a personal spat with Jared and Confidence, but he had never been very fond of any kind of law enforcement, from the marines to the local police. It wasn't like his entire name was going to solve their national crisis. He wasn't even sure if he remembered it, considering he hadn't used it in about a bazillion years.

"Where are you going?"

"What's it to you?"

There was a pause, in which Jared had the opportunity to think of something marginally intelligent to say, "You'd rather stay out here?"

Nick's expression darkened, "And what if I would? What does it matter if I'd rather hang around in zombie-land than be under the 'protection' of the military?"

Confidence sighed, glancing at Jared irritably, "That's not what we mean."

"I don't think its right for you to talk for young Jared." Nick spat, "Let the boy speak his mind, preferably before he becomes a clone."

Jared's temper flared, something he had almost been counting on, "Excuse me!_?_"

The feeling that he was being watched was all over the place. He caught Confidence's eye for a brief second. "Shut up," He snapped, "This is how I can tell you're new. Any sane person would die before they let their temper get the better of them when-…" He was cut off rather suddenly by a piercing shriek.

"What the hell-…?_!_" Jared's eyes widened and he froze up as Nick whirled around to find the source. That might possibly be Dal, if the Hunter had gone and lost his mind again, but that might also just be another Hunter that had somehow managed to survive through the winter.

The sound of a horde reached him, and Nick turned back to face the frightened duo, "Did you idiots spray steak sauce around or something?" he barked, catching their attention, "I don't know how familiar you are with infected," He said, his tone commanding, "But this works two ways…"

He fired at several infected, coming around the houses, "Either you shoot to kill, or you get killed!"

"Mike," Jared said over the roar of enraged infected, "I-…"

"Save it!" Mike the Confident replied, "We'll make it through this!"

Nick still didn't know where they were all coming from. It was the middle of winter; he had assumed that all the infected had died from the cold. Upon further inspection, he could see that the majority of them had frostbitten feet and hands, and kept falling over and making themselves easy target. He didn't know where the Hunter that had led them was. He didn't know if there was a Tank coming; he didn't know if there was more Special Infected en route; he didn't even have a proper assault rifle to be killing these things with.

His stomach clenched as anxiety started pelting his mood with bricks. If the others came, they might have a better chance, but he couldn't be sure and he didn't want any of them getting hurt. He could hear spastic gunfire behind him; they had assault rifles and they were using them, though sparingly. Mike seemed to be using only his pistols, but Jared, being frightened of just about everything, was relying on the stronger gun.

He heard a sound of a gurgle and turned as he looked for the Boomer. This was already turning into utter bullshit. He continued his fire, though his eyes barely lingered on a target long enough to see if it actually died. He was far to busy looking for something more dangerous.

"WHAT IS THAT!_?_!" He heard Jared all but shriek, and turned around in time to spot the Boomer.

"GET BACK!" Nick barked, taking aim and firing. Mike was covering him as he fired upon the Boomer. Jared obeyed Nick's order and turned away, running from it. He barely got far enough of way in time to avoid to rancid vomit that was expelled from its body when it exploded. The conman turned away from the problem and searched instinctively for the other one, Mike. The sound of his gunfire had vanished completely and he couldn't hear him yelling.

_Not a Smoker too…_ He cursed, hearing Jared's panicked yell.

"Cover me, Jared!" He commanded, diving headfirst into the crowd of infected that had appeared a few feet away from where Mike had been moments ago. He spotted the Smoker and fired at it. His gun ran out of ammo after the first shot was fired, but Nick spotted an M-16 on the ground, likely abandoned when Mike had been snagged. He stooped briefly to pick it up and opened fire yet again. The Smoker dropped, and a moment later he heard a shriek; the Hunter.

The common infected were cleared away as Nick continued forward, and he arrived at Mike's side a second later, bringing up his leg and kicking the Hunter in the side as hard as he could. The ground was trembling beneath them; incoming Tank. He cursed, killing the Hunter quickly and standing guard over Mike as he pulled himself together.

"Get up, soldier!" Nick yelled over the din, "Jared!" The man was nearby, and called out in reply, "If you've got anything stronger, _get it!_"

The Tank was easy to spot, and he heard Mike's horrified curse, "Get back," Nick ordered, "Get back to the car! I need fire! Anything will do!"

Jared appeared beside him just as Mike was running away. Nick took the apparent military-issued version of a Molotov and threw it at the lumbering giant.

"RUN!" He turned, grabbing Jared's elbow as they both started running. Several more infected caught fire around the Tank, who bellowed in rage. Nick turned in mid-run, moving backwards as best he could as he wiped out all the infected he could find. Bullets whizzed past him faster than those of an M-16, and Nick quickly recognized the sound of an M-60, likely mounted on the back of their Hummer-tank.

"NICK!" he heard the call of his name long before he took the blow, sight turning black for seconds and then flashing in and out of blinding light. He was wrenched off the ground suddenly, his body suddenly returning to him as he acknowledged the fact that he was struggling desperately against the grip of a Charger. The sound of the Tank's impending footsteps were getting louder, suggesting to Nick that, not only was it not dead, it could hear him yelling and seemed to be a little bit interested in finding the distressed human.

The Tank, bless his soul and damn his strength, was stupid enough to have assumed that, since he couldn't see Nick past the massive arm, he had reason enough to believe that the yelling human was in fact, the Charger. As a result of this flawed logic, the Tank swung his massive arm at the Charger, who didn't let go of Nick until they were halfway through the air. He hit the ground yet again, rolling in the snow a bit before coming to a stop. He was shaking all over, his entire body burning with pain. He knew for a fact that if he had taken the blow from that Tank he'd be dead, so some part of Nick's still-functioning mind made a point to thank the Charger.

The Tank was right behind him, and he barely saw the shadow before he rolled out of the way. He moved just fast enough to avoid being crushed into nothing. He rolled onto his stomach and barely managed to stumble away before the Tank smashed his fists into the ground again.

He turned around in mid-run, taking a brief but careful aim and shooting the Tank right between the eyes. Giant monster or not, a bullet or five through the brain would kill anything and anyone.

It fell suddenly, falling over itself as it hit the ground. The other infected had been cleared away. Nick stood over the Tank, and took a brief moment to shoot it a couple more times.

He looked up to the Hummer-tank, spotting Jared, but not Mike. He was making his way towards the conman. Nick doubled over, one hand on his knee, the other pressed to his burning chest. He wasn't eating enough to go through this kind of thing.

He looked up at Jared, who was white as chalk and shaking all over. Nick took in a shuddering, agonized breath and managed to straighten up and looked the young man in the eye. His mask was gone, likely knocked off by a common. Past the young man, he could see a camouflaged person lying in the snow, blood staining the white around them.

Mike was dead.

Nick swallowed the lump in his throat down and smiled at Jared approvingly. The kid started crying, sobs wracking his body. He was still a child. This experience was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. For some reason, Nick couldn't help but feel horribly about it.

"You became a soldier to protect people, right?" Nick spoke, remorse likely absent from his expression. Jared looked up at him, biting his lip to hold back the pouring emotion.

"To protect and defend." He muttered in agreement, barely audibly. Nick nodded solemnly.

"Then pick up your head and protect them," He continued, tone commanding, "You may be human, but you're also a soldier in the midst of a war. You can save the humanity for when you go home."

Jared looked up at him, nose tinted pink, cheeks burning. He straightened his back and saluted the conman. Nick smirked, "There are four of us altogether in my group that aren't infected." He paused, watching as Jared pulled out a pad of paper and a pen that had somehow survived their battle, "Ellis, early twenties; Rochelle, late twenties; Coach, mid-to-late-forties. Then there's me, Nick, 35."

Jared looked at him, "That's all?"

Nick shook his head, "We have a Hunter with us. His name is Dal; he's in his late teens if I had to guess." Jared was staring at him in shock, "He managed to keep his humanity, even if he looks like a monster to you."

A smile graced Jared expression as he jotted it down, "I guess that leaves hope for a cure, right?"

Nick nodded, "Do me a favor and lie about where we are in the country. I don't want anyone taking him away for experiments."

"New Hampshire it is."

He chuckled, the sound genuine, "That's all I have to tell you, kid."

Jared nodded, replacing the pad and pen, "I'm glad I met you."

"Get out of here."

.

Some part of him felt guilty for sending Jared away without first finding the others and finding out if they wanted to leave. He trudged on, through the thickly falling snowflakes. His body was a mess of bruises and everything hurt. He shivered violently, clenching his teeth to hold back the urge to scream in pain.

"Nick!" The sound of someone calling his name was enough to motivate him. Nick raised his head and started forcing his legs to move just a little bit faster. The battle had been taxing on his already weakened body. Next time he decided to run away and hide in a casino and then fight every single infected known, he would make sure to have full breakfast first.

The snow let up a bit, and he could suddenly see the group of five running towards him. Dal was leading them, looking so happy to see him Nick had to sidestep as quickly as he could to avoid being tackled into the snow.

"Nick!" Rochelle took Dal's place and flung her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He clenched his teeth as everything began to scream in protest to the pressure and weight.

"Rochelle…" He wheezed, "Ow."

She let out a startled gasp as she pulled away, "Are you hurt?"

He placed a hand on his knee and took a moment to breathe, ignoring her hands on his shoulders. He glanced at Dal, who had appeared at his side, "There was a war."

The Hunter's eyes widened slightly; he instantly knew the kind of fight that Nick had been in.

Ellis spoke up next, his voice holding a certain tension. Coach was helping Nick to stand up straight again, "A war? I woulda thought all tha' zombies'd be dead from the cold."

Nick snorted, "That was my theory too," he replied, "I guess they were just playing poker in the casino."

Coach looked worried, "How bad was it?"

"I…" He trailed off into silence, "I could've died at least three times."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell them about the military duo that had fought beside him, and the one that had died because of his and Jared's carelessness. He wasn't sure if they would be okay finding out that they could've been rescued, found safety, been happy.

Ellis caught onto his reluctance faster than Nick would ever have given him credit for, "What's wrong?" It was the mechanic's turn to pry out information, apparently.

Rochelle cut into their conversation as a rather violent shudder ran through Nick's body, "Let's go back," She said, "We can continue this conversation later."

"Back?"

Rochelle nodded, "We changed locations while you were gone."

He nodded, "Good thing you found me instead of me finding that there was no one home."

Coach chuckled, the sound slightly reassuring. Dal appeared at his side, and Nick draped an arm over his shoulders and allowed the infected to support the majority of his weight. His left leg, the one that Dal was carefully defending, was burning with the insanity of a high fever. It had probably swelled up like a balloon.

Nick thought of Mike, and then of Jared. He wasn't sure if the kid was strong enough by himself to be able to withstand the infection without a sidekick, but he had to keep at least a little bit of optimism. If he did make it, Jared had promise. Mike would've made a great person; he came across to Nick like the type to be married, perhaps with a child. Guilt remained in his chest, where it had been lingering ever since he'd decided to trek back from the casino.

"Fuck the casino…" he muttered under his breath. He hadn't realized that he'd said it aloud until Rochelle glanced at him.

"Casino?" _Oops_.

Well, there wasn't much point in avoiding it now, "I stayed there for the duration of my vacation. And it's half a block from the bloodbath."

Coach smiled broadly, "Ya' know, I was thinkin' that you might be at one of those casinos, just because I know you a little."

Nick snorted, "I left the place wondering why it hadn't been one of the first places you guys looked."

Rochelle rolled her eyes, "You looked like shit, so I didn't exactly think you were up for travel."

Ellis glanced over at them, "Wish we had checked. I've never seen a casino before."

The conman glanced at Ellis, "Well, gee Ellis," He said sarcastically, "I guess I'll hafta take ya' down ta' tha' casiner sometime." The southerners both laughed at Nick's poor attempt at their accent.

The new house was maybe a room or two bigger than Nick's parent's house. It was white and black, and had a decent sized porch with a stain of blood on the left side of the third and second stairs.

The interior was nicer than the exterior, of course. Dal sat Nick down on the couch in the living room. Rochelle sat next to him, asking him politely to unbutton his shirt so she could take a look. Coach sat down on the loveseat across from them, and Ellis took the matching chair that completed the living room set. He sat on it sideways, his head resting on one of the arms and his legs hanging over the other side.

"So, Nick," Ellis wasn't about to let the conversation die, "What's wrong?"

The conman undid the last button, wincing slightly as Rochelle's hands gently ran across his chest to look for anything that might've been broken. "I have a question to counter your question, Ellis."

The mechanic blinked, looking confused. Nick bit his lip, raising his gaze and finding Coach. The older man watched him like a hawk, though his stare wasn't nearly as cold. Dal was sitting on Nick's other side, staring at the bruises with misery on his face. Rochelle was chewing her lip harder every time Nick let out a hiss of pain. Ellis' expression was solemn, unhappy with the conman's injuries.

"If you had the opportunity to get out of this apocalypse," Nick said slowly, catching Ellis' eye for just a moment, "Would you want to leave?"

Ellis' jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Nick didn't look at him, but he could see the tension out of the corner of his eye. Rochelle looked at him nervously, exchanging a brief glance with Coach before speaking up with concern all over her tone, "Why do you ask?"

"Why do you not answer?" His voice was soft, unsure of itself.

Coach looked at him seriously, "Nick," He began slowly, thinking of the words he wanted to use, "If I could get out of here, I would want to."

Nick looked up at him seriously, an unrecognizable expression on his face.

"But if I couldn't bring every single one of you with me," He looked around the room at everyone, his eyes falling on Dal for a particularly long second, "It wouldn't be worth it."

Rochelle looked over at Dal as well, and then at Nick, and Ellis, and finally Coach. She nodded, "I could never leave for the sake of my own personal safety," She said, looking at Nick directly, "It wouldn't matter if it was because Dal was infected, or if one of you couldn't make it to helicopter…"

"I would never want to leave one of you behind again." Her eyes were watering, "You… I couldn't tell you how hard it was… for all of us… not knowing if you were okay."

Ellis was smiling at them, his gaze on the floor. The expression wasn't quite bitter, but it reminded Nick of the emotion. Coach and Rochelle followed Nick's gaze, falling on the young mechanic.

He looked up at them, "Well," he said, "S'not like I'll be gettin' outta here anytime soon anyways."

Coach blinked, glancing at Nick in confusion. The mechanic said no more, his jaw clenching with his fists.

Nick smiled slightly, and leaned forward, ignoring the excruciating pain in his bruised torso. He extended his arm forward, holding his hand facedown over the coffee table in the center of their little gathering, "So, we're staying?"

Ellis leaned in enthusiastically, resting his hand over Nick's, "I'm stayin'."

Coach and Rochelle exchanged a glance, each smiling. The young woman put her hand in, "I wouldn't want to leave you boys along for anything."

The Hunter beside Nick leaned forward, placing his clawed, scarred hand on top of Rochelle's and looking at his conman. Nick returned the gaze with an affectionate smile, reaching a hand behind him and rubbing his back, inciting a purr from the infected.

"Hell," Coach boomed with laughter straight from his heart, placing his hand on the top, "We been through hell and we been back," He grinned, looking from one young face to the next, "We're a team, folks, and we ain't never lookin' over our shoulders."

Nick grinned, "What is there to look for?"

"To the infection," Ellis chimed in, his wild grin filled with excitement.

"To our guns," Rochelle added, chuckling to herself.

"One, two, three," Coach barked.

"Team!"

* * *

**A/N**

**And here it is, the end of the story. But, as _Kate the Night_ requested, I'll continue to add minor continuations to the story. Each continuation will have it's very own story to tell about _Their Life Past The End_. The continuations may be anywhere from one chapter snippets to five and six chapter story lines. I already have one planned out. Also, the continuations aren't going to be in chronological order, most likely. What I'll do is I'll finish a snippet/storyline, and then I'll move it into the spot where it should be chapter-wise. So if you read a chapter about someone dying, and then in the next storyline they're alive again, you can pretty much assume that I'm going to be moving them around.**

**OH AND I GUESS I SHOULD LET YOU KNOW THAT NONE OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS ARE GOING TO DIE. EVER. JUS' SAYIN'.**

**If you're interested in seeing Dal, I have plans to post him to my deviantart tonight. I'll post the link to my deviantart on my profile, so you'll be able to find me there.**

**Special thanks to;**

**_G-ChanSanKun _for being an Athletic Trainer and helping me to be sure of any and all injuries taking place in the story, as well as how dangerous the injuries were and are.**

**_Dawn Rivers Baker_ AKA Mama, for helping me work through the genetics of how Nick is immune and Scott isn't, as well as helping me get through the plot whenever I got stuck.**

**_Kate the Night_ for being my most dedicated and amazing reviewer. Thank her! If it wasn't for _Kate_ I don't know if I would've had the motivation to finish this story!**

* * *

**Story statistics do not include A/N. A/Ns were added prior to internet posting, and therefore are not included in the original document.**

**111 pages, 59,477 words, 326,768 characters(with spaces), 1,611 paragraphs, 4,657 lines, 20 chapters**

**8 characters with given names - Dal, Nick, Rochelle, Ellis, Coach, Zoey, Francis, Virgil  
**


	21. Thingamajiggy

**_Something Else – Aftermath Chapters_**

**_._**

**_Something Precious_**

**_Part One_**

…

Dal was an odd creature. This had already been decided by all members of their group, namely Nick. Dal was an infected with the mind of a toddler and sanity that held together almost as well as Ellis', so long as no one was in immediate danger of death, namely Nick. Dal idolized Nick in his own odd way, always wanting to sleep with him and be around him and follow him around and lean on him and sit on him. Nick was rather neutral towards these actions; though he would often react angrily if he was in a cranky mood and being obstructed from his morning sugar dose, namely a cup of hot chocolate, because the stupid coffee pot was broken _again_.

That said; it was obvious to only Nick when Dal started to act a little… odd. Surely, odd was normal for such an odd creature, but some things were odder than others. Dal was an odd and happy little creature. He was easy to upset, but even easier to cheer up.

Knowing the limits to normal cheerfulness on Dal's face, it was easier for Nick that it was for anyone else to notice when his smiling was a little overboard. Nick was an observant person. Dal didn't seem to know that.

Nick's eyes cracked open, and he slowly and quietly disentangled himself from Rochelle's warmth. The air away from their bed was a little warmer than fucking frigid, but Nick was tough so he could handle it. Rochelle mumbled something incoherent in her sleep, persuading him to lean over and give her a swift kiss before getting off the bed. As he was returning to their room from the bathroom, he almost immediately took notice of the lack of black blur on the foot of the bed. Dal was gone.

He slipped downstairs briefly, scoping out the living room and the couch in his near-blind exhaustion. He didn't spot the Hunter, but there was also a distinct possibility that he was in another room, making his rounds. Nick returned to bed, joining Rochelle as stealthily as possible.

When he woke up that morning and traveled downstairs for coffee or hot chocolate (depending on the state of the coffee pot), he took note that Dal was on the couch. He was watching Ellis intently as he dissected the coffee pot to see what exactly was making water spew everywhere when one turned it on to make coffee.

That had been a week ago.

Currently, Nick was twiddling his thumbs on the couch, staring out the window in the living room and glancing over to the door every time he heard the slightest bit of movement. Dal was still out and he was already awake. Dal had always made sure to abandon his obsession so he could be home before anyone else woke up. So, naturally, Nick was worriedly waiting for the others to come downstairs so he could tell them to get their gear so they could go hunt for the stupid Hunter.

He was only a couple of hours late, so Nick wasn't altogether sure why he was so worked up. He frowned at the window and sighed to himself. His paranoia was getting a little bit ridiculous. But that wasn't his fault; Dal was something to be worried about constantly.

.

The little tiny thingamajig cooed at him, and Dal let out a gentle squeal of delight at the sound. It shivered slightly against his calloused hands, though he almost didn't notice the sensation in his mostly numb extremities. His ever watchful eyes did, however, catch sight of the involuntary movement. Dal easily recognized "shivering," mostly because he had had to curl up with and often carry Nick, who had shivered from both cold and nightmares almost constantly when they had been alone.

Nervously, Dal leaned over the small creature and sniffed its fuzzy body a bit worriedly. It sneezed at him, and shivered even worse. Dal recognized the signs of an ill body, whether it was in a person or in a tiny thingamajig. He had managed to refrain from touching it too much, mainly because he knew that his strength and claws could be dangerous from something so small and fragile. The memory of attacking Nick pieced itself together in his head, and Dal's lip quivered.

Slowly, he held out one of his hands. It sniffed him curiously, though the movement was sluggish and tired. He laid both his hands down on the cold concrete of the building, palms up, and waited. Whatever it was, it was smart. It weakly stumbled onto his hands and all but fell over as it got comfortable.

A low, angry snarl reached him, and Dal froze. His lips parted slightly in horror as he easily recognized the territorial snarl of a fellow Hunter. He and Nick had had this problem before, but Dal would've known to stay if they had just marked their territory. He wasn't _stupid_, despite some irrational decisions he made.

The lone Hunter turned into a pack of Hunter_s_. A group of at least seven of them was creeping forward on all fours, showing their yellow teeth. Without a moment to decide on consequences, Dal pulled the tiny thingamajig to his chest and jumped to the nearby wall, clutching the small creature in one hand and using the other to grab one of the metal bars hanging from the ceiling. With a slight height advantage, he took off, following the bars until he found a window.

He paused for only a second, slipping the little thingy into his hoodie pocket, where it would be safe. He held one arm over the pocket, defending it with one hand as he broke through the window with the other. It was a slightly longer drop than he had anticipated, and while the pain only lasted a few seconds, it only took that long for the other Hunters to catch up to him. He managed to stand up, shaking out his leg for only a second before taking off again, this time using both hands to protect his charge. He jumped onto a porch roof, and then onto the roof of that house. Roof jumping was one of Dal's favorite pastimes, even before he had met Nick.

Naturally, he was very good at it.

His jumping form was perfect, and nothing could possibly have gone wrong. It was situations like these that made him and Nick nervous. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that one of the other Hunters, a smaller, faster little girl, had caught up with him much better than he larger, slower brothers. He barely saw the blur of purple as it rammed into his side, taking both of them off the roof. Dal managed to pull up a leg in midair and kicked her hard in the chest, sending her flying away from his person. He knew he didn't have time to land properly, but his instincts did the best they could. He rolled over mere feet from the ground and barely managed to turn the landing into something less than a disaster.

The snow caved around his knees from the impact, and he could feel the odd, tingling sensation in his right ankle. It had done the same thing when he'd hit the ground from the window. He ignored it and stood up.

He managed to run maybe a hundred yards before his entire leg gave out, sending him to his knees. When he managed to stand back up, he found that he couldn't operate his right leg enough to run, let alone walk properly. He turned around; he couldn't fight with this thing in his front pocket. It let out a soft cry of terror, and he could feel it shifting around against his stomach. He bit his lower lip.

The Hunters were standing in what looked almost like a formation. The little one in the purple hoodie was riding on the back of a particularly large Hunter. He looked like he had been a failed attempt at a Charger, or something. The apparent leader stepped forward, his back slouched and his teeth and claws bore. He growled lowly, his intentions clear.

_Get out. I'll kill you._

Dal didn't respond, wincing slightly at the sound of another frightened coo. He didn't move, his body tensing as they crouched down in preparation to pounce. He couldn't run; he could fight; he couldn't even walk away passively. One of the Hunters leapt over the back of their apparent leader, landing mere feet away from Dal. He snarled viciously, but Dal didn't flinch. He had been around gun fire, taken out Tanks, run screaming from Witches, and fought and mutilated the bodies of countless infected in the midst of a rampage.

His throat betrayed him, letting out a deep, threatening growl. It was a self-defense mechanism that he hadn't yet managed to get under control and would probably kill him. Today.

The Hunter's face contorted into rage, and he jumped forward, betraying the shriek of orders from the Hunter in charge of their little pack. Dal caught the attacking Hunter's foot with his palm, ignoring the agonizing strain in his wrist as he turned the deadly attack away from his stomach. The kick barely missed him, and his newly sprained wrist didn't have the strength to repel the attack completely. The Hunter sped past him, watching as Dal hit the ground, one hand still covering his front pocket. The leader stepped towards him, his scarred face contorted into an expression akin to disgust.

Dal wasn't altogether sure if the Infected population - any amount of them – had managed to regain at bit of their sanity and communicative skills with at least each other. Whatever the case may be, this Hunter pack was doing a good job keeping their intentions clear.

There was a crunch in the snow, and the leader looked up. Eyes wide in surprise, he let out a screech to warn the others only seconds before he had taken a bullet to the head. Or maybe it had been several to different portions of his body. Dal hadn't exactly seen that part.

The footsteps stopped behind him.

"Dal," Nick reached down and touched his head. The Hunter leaned back to look at him. "What happen…?" He shook his head, sighing. He really wished that Dal could actually talk. It'd make everyone's life a lot easier, "C'mon, get up."

The Hunter nodded, leaning forward again. His held his injured arm over the front pocket - it wasn't like he would be able to do anything else with it - and stood up awkwardly. His leg was practically numb, and still wouldn't bend and turn when he wanted it to.

Nick was scrutinizing him, a scowl on his face, "So, you wanna give me a really good reason why you didn't come home this morning, and ended up nearly getting yourself killed by a pack of Hunters?"

Dal opened his mouth to speak, and Nick was greeted with a soft, nervous meow. Dal clamped his mouth shut and swallowed hard. He looked mortified. Nick found himself staring at Dal's right arm, which was held over his front pocket as if for protection. The pocket stirred, and a small head poked itself out of the pocket.

"Dal," He said severely, "We are _not_ keeping a fucking kitten." It was a small, dark calico with relatively large ears for its size. It sneezed, and pulled back into the pocket. Rochelle was standing behind him, and he could feel Ellis on the other side. Coach had stayed home, mostly because he seemed to be coming down with a slight head cold.

Rochelle had seen the kitten, and she looked to Nick briefly before turning back to Dal. Wordlessly, she extended her hands out, and the Hunter seemed to understand her intentions. He reached into his pocket with his left hand and managed to gently tug the kitten out of his pocket. It squealed and dug its claws into the fabric, clearly not wanting to come out.

Dal placed the kitten into Rochelle's hands gingerly, looking overly worried about the wellbeing of the kitten. Rochelle cooed at it, and it mewled back at her, trying to slip its tiny body into her sleeve.

She only held it for a moment before she handed it back to Dal, "Nick," She began, "It's just a baby…"

"_No_."

"C'mon, Nick," Ellis suddenly spoke up, after having watched the kitten carefully, "s'just a baby. It can't live out 'ere by itself."

"W-… It's been doing fine! Dal's only been taking care of it for a little while!" Nick snapped, "We are _not_ keeping it! It'll be dead in a week!"

Dal looked mortified, and let out a slightly heated growl. He wasn't going to let anything happen to his kitten. Nick shook his head insistently.

"Absolutely not," was all he said.

Rochelle stuck out her lip, "Nick, _please_? Kittens that small don't make much noise! And it's sick!"

"It is not sick."

Dal nodded his head insistently, and as if to back up the notion, the kitten sneezed pitifully from within the depths of Dal's front pocket. Nick gritted his teeth, looking back and forth between Ellis' puppy-dog face and Rochelle's mock-quivering lip. They were _begging_ him. This was ridiculous.

"How old are you again?"

"Don't get off topic, Nick," Ellis said hopefully, "C'mon, you won't hafta have anything ta' do with it. We can take care of a kitten."

"He's right; I'm sure Dal will be more than willing to bottle feed it by himself." Rochelle added with a smile.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa - Bottle feed?" Nick cut her off, "It doesn't need to be fed milk!"

"Yes it does! I'm sure its mom only recently died; it wouldn't have been able to live by itself for very long. It's too small."

"Where d'ya think all the milk went?" Ellis sniggered.

Nick turned to Dal, "Did you-… Why are we even discussing this? No is no!"

The kitten was stirring against Dal's stomach again, seemingly upset by the yelling. Dal lowered his gaze to his pocket, and something odd about his wrist caught his eye. He frowned at the appendage, but didn't say anything.

"Dal…" He croaked. He didn't look up at Nick at all, slipping his uninjured hand into his pocket to stroke the soft fur on the kitten neck. It licked his finger, inciting a delighted expression from the Hunter.

"What happened to your hand?" Nick suddenly said, staring at the swelling on his wrist with a scowl, "Did you sprain it?"

Dal looked up again, thinking for a brief second before showing what exactly his wrist had done when he'd been defending the kitten against his stomach from harm. Nick clicked his tongue irritably.

"You dumbass," He grunted, "You could've gotten yourself killed, and over what? A fucking cat."

Dal pulled the kitten out of his pocket again, being careful to not expose it to the wind. He held out to Nick nervously, watching the conman carefully. Nick frowned, taking the kitten from him and staring at it hard. It sneezed again.

"Fucker probably has fleas," He muttered, "Do you know how hard it is to get fleas off a cat? It's a pain in the ass. And we'd have to stock up on cat food, and that would mean a trip to the fucking supermarket. We could get ourselves killed doing that. This thing'll probably die within a week _anyway_ because we don't even have any medicine for animals. We'd have to walk to the nearest pet shop to get that, and I don't even know where I could _find_ a pet shop."

Ellis rolled his eyes, "Nick, this is a yes'r no question."

Nick scowled, handing the little creature to Dal. He didn't say anything as Dal put it back into his pocket. He listened to it squeak as it returned to the warmth. He watched it as it squirmed in the pocket. He glanced at Rochelle out of the corner of his eye; she was watching him hopefully.

"Why do we want a cat?" He grumbled, "It's just one more thing to take care of, and we can barely take care of each other."

Rochelle smiled slightly, "It's like having a baby, Nick."

Nick was taken aback by the reply. He glanced back at Dal, aware of the fact that he was probably slightly flushed by Rochelle's words.

"If I wanted a kid, I would've asked for one."

She nodded understandingly, "That's the cool thing about kittens," She said, "It's like having your own baby, only there's no crying, no screaming, and no cleaning up diapers. She's still really young, so it'd be really easy to litter train her.

"It's a girl?"

"Yea…You didn't notice that?"

"I'm sorry; I don't stare at cat parts for fun." He replied sarcastically, turning back to Dal again. He had a hand in his pocket, petting the kitten again with a gentle look on his face.

There was a long, silent pause. The wind blew a gust over the snowy landscape. Dal turned slightly so that the kitten wouldn't get a sudden blast of cold. He held his arms over the pocket, shielding her from the chilly air.

"Fine. We can keep her."

* * *

**A/N**

**And thus, the first Aftermath Chapter. Yes, Nick just agreed to keep a kitten. Just for the record, she isn't a freshly born kitten. She's only maybe a week away from weaning. Her mommy and brothers and sisters were probably killed by the infection/infected only a few hours before she met Dal. And yes, he's been stealing milk from the fridge to give her. **

**I don't quite remember who, but someone mentioned something about a pack of Hunters that would "try to recruit Dal into their group, and Nick would have to fend them off and stuff." My Hunter pack is somewhat based off that notion, except that they aren't interested in recruiting Dal so much as they're interested in protecting their territory. They'll be back, trust me.**

**Also, I didn't call it a kitten until the end of the chapter, because the scene where Dal is alone is written from his perspective. And no, he doesn't know what a kitten it, until just now. _Kate the Night_ wanted me to write a chapter from his point of view, and I tried that at first, but Dal is a little bastard so he's really hard to write like that, mainly because he doesn't talk and I never write what he's thinking in _italicized thoughts_. **

**Sorry for taking so long to write this chapter! It was really, really, really hard for some reason. I had to rewrite it about three times. The first time was a completely different storyline that failed, and the second time was like a rough draft bullshit version of the end result. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.  
**


	22. Who's Ian?

**This chapter has been edited as of Wednesday, May 4th, 2011  
**

* * *

**_Something Precious_**

**_Part Two_**

…

They had no idea what was wrong with Dal's ankle; he couldn't put any weight on it, it had swelled up like a balloon, and it seemed to be at least uncomfortable for him. They couldn't really tell how painful it was, but the fact that he was purposefully keeping off it without having to be told. Coach had come across a couple of ace bandages in the cabinet of the bathroom, and had tightly and thoroughly wrapped Dal's ankle. He iced it regularly to keep the swelling down and instructed him to stay off it and told him "_no jumping and no running_."

At that very moment, Nick was entertaining himself with a Harlequin Romance novel. Rochelle was in the kitchen this particular morning, as it was her turn to fix the morning hot chocolate. The coffee pot was ruined for good. Leave it to Ellis to ruin the apocalypse for everyone.

Ellis himself was in the shower. Dal was sitting on the other side of the couch from Nick, his right leg propped up on the table as a method of elevation. He didn't like it very much, sometimes wincing violently if he shifted a little bit too much where he sat.

Coach was out back, having gotten over his cold, searching for something like a 2x4 that he could use to make a splint for Dal's ankle. He didn't like not walking, and if he wasn't going to stay seated, then the next best thing would be to forcibly immobilize that portion of his leg, just in case. This was also a measure to keep him from jumping or running if he ended up going out anyway.

Nick looked up briefly as Dal let out a slightly irritated growl. The kitten in his lap froze, looking frightened as it stared up at him. His smile was strained as he leaned his head back against the couch and lifted his leg off the table. Nick tilted his head slightly as watched as he set his heel on the floor. His expression went from pained to agonized in second, and he let out a soft whimper.

The conman could easily see his distress; the hard surface of the table seemed to be aggravating whatever was wrong with his ankle, and putting weight onto that heel was anything but better. He stood up, setting the book on the coffee table, and started across the room.

Dal watched as he wandered upstairs. Only a few minutes later, he returned with three thick, soft pillows. He stacked them on top of each other on the end of the couch opposite from Dal. He could feel Rochelle's eyes on him; she was standing behind the couch, in a door way that led to the dining room. From the smell of it, she had prepared lunch a bit early. Gotta love that lacking sense of time.

He walked over to Dal, "Put your feet on the pillows." He said, "And give me that." He didn't wait for a reply as he stooped slightly and pulled the cat away from Dal. It mewled softly, and Nick easily cradled it in one hand.

"What?" He grunted at the Hunter's awed expression, "Hurry up."

Dal, with a look of concentration, lifted both legs up and swung around so that he was parallel with the couch. He lowered his feet onto the pillows, a soft sigh of relief coming out of his throat. Nick was staring at the kitten as it snuffed him out, its nose a bit cold against his neck.

"Quit it," He hissed in pain when the kitten dug its tiny claws into his neck and shirt as he tried to give it back to Dal. The Hunter snorted in amusement. "This thing is _just_ like you Dal." Nick winced, wondering briefly if it was drawing blood yet, "Like a tiny version of you!"

Rochelle let out a chuckle of amusement, "I guess that does explain why she seems to like you so much." She winked, joined Nick beside the couch. With a soft coo, she took the kittens paws gingerly and squeezed just a little bit. The kitten squeaked, retracting its claws from Nick.

The conman looked mildly amazed by her feat, "What did you do?" He made sure to keep her a good distance away from himself as he handed her back to Dal.

"I just pinched her pads." Rochelle replied, "I didn't actually think that would work. She seems to like it." Dal was now imitating Rochelle, gently squeezing the kittens back. It squeaked again, and started licking his fingers. Dal looked genuinely pleased.

"Is there food or am I jus' crazy?" Ellis appeared on the stairs, clothed in only a towel and a wide grin.

Nick averted his gaze immediately, and let out a strained sigh, "Yea, Ellis. We roasted a turkey and made Thanksgiving dinner. But you can't have any because you aren't dressed."

The mechanic was gone in an instant, and they heard him yelp as he fell in the bathroom, trying to get his pants on as fast as he could.

"I'm gonna bring the plates out here," Rochelle said, "Since we want Dal staying put and all."

Nick nodded in agreement, "I'm not sure he's interested in getting up at this point anyway." Dal looked up at the mention of his name, but didn't allow the two to hold his attention for more than a few seconds.

He followed Rochelle into the dining room, and helped her carry out the plates. Ellis returned, only to be sent out back to summon Coach.

"Alright," Nick began after a moment of silence, "First of all, Dal, I just want you to know that you won't be bottle-feeding her forever." The Hunter looked up. "Scott was a fan of cats, and he tried to make me one too… Anyway, judging from her size, she can probably start eating regular food soon."

Ellis looked at Nick, "But cats don't eat human food, right?"

Rochelle nodded, "We'll have to go out and get her cat food."

Nick nodded, "She'll start getting sick, and might even end up seriously malnourished if she only drinks milk." There was a pause, "Since most of the snow has already melted, I think now would be a good time for me and Ellis to go out and ransack the nearest Walmart or something. We'd be able to bring everything back in a shopping cart, thus saving time and energy, or your money back guarantee."

At his joke, the inhabitants of the room couldn't help but laugh. Nick smirked slightly. Coach spoke up, "On another note, I found a decent piece of plywood, but I need an expert to help me cut it." He glanced at Ellis, who nodded and smiled.

"I'm awesome at cuttin' wood. This one time, Keith and I were in some forest'r somethin', and we thought it'd be cool to cut down a tree. Well, we didn't have anythin' other than our axes, so Keith'n I made a bet that whoever could cut down a tree first got ta' make the other do somethin' or whatever…"

"Ellis…" Rochelle spoke up, but Ellis seemed awfully excited about the story.

"Well, me'n Keith ended up staying in that forest fer like, five days! In the end, he cut 'is down first, because I passed out from exhaustion. He woke me up hours later and said that he won. I mean, I'm sure he snuck off and grabbed a chainsaw'r somethin', but I never proved it!"

This story was proving to be slightly amusing, and they had never let him finish a story before. Nick glanced up at Rochelle and Coach, and they shrugged and continued listening.

"So anyway, we walked home, and left tha' tree there jus' over night. Ya' know, we really didn't have the energy to carry it back. Ma wasn't home so we got out the beer, and he was makin' fun of me for faintin'. I called him on the chainsaw and he said that we had never agreed to not usin' other tools. He held that deal over my head for weeks, sayin' he had to think about something horrible enough, and finally, he came over one day real drunk. He said somethin' about "Ian" or something that he'd got from some Northerner tourist'r somethin'. I didn't know what'r who "Ian" was, so I told him to git inside'n sober up."

Nick looked up at Ellis, wide-eyed as the excitement in the youth eyes.

_'Ian?' As in 'E-in?' As in, 'Ecstasy?'_

_Oh, fuck no… No… He didn't…_

"Well, you won't believe what Keith did after that…!"

"Ellis," Nick cut in suddenly, his face white and his expression horrified, "I… uh… I'm not sure if this story sounds particularly age appropriate."

…

It was rather unlike Dal to wake up in the middle of the night. His kitten was curled up in his pocket, having crawled in there on her own whims. For some reason, a pit of nauseating worry appeared in his stomach. His instincts were on fire as he sat up slowly, feeling the kitten tumbling around against his stomach. He wouldn't be able to fight, especially since his right wrist was still sprained, and his ankle was completely immobilized. He bit his lip gently, holding his breath as he waited for something to happen.

A soft scratching as the door caught his attention. He pulled the kitten out of his pocket as he got off the couch, and put the kitten on the blankets, wrapping them around her carefully but swiftly. He limped over to the door, leaning on his left leg and standing on his toes to see out the small window near the top of the door. He couldn't see anything. He knew it was a bad idea, but nevertheless, Dal unlocked the door and tugged it open slowly, peering out into the night.

The sound of a soft, enraged growl reached him, and he all but slammed the door shut. He locked it again, and looked around the house. Most of the windows weren't covered by the curtains they sported, and he had seen the others close them often enough to understand how they worked. He limped over to the nearest window and closed the curtain. Then he moved on to the next, and then the next…

By the time he had shut and locked up the house, his entire leg was on fire. They were still scratching at the door, growling at one another. He recognized their tone from Hunters he had listened to before. They were going to hunt the group until everyone was dead or they left the territory.

He knew that there was nothing he could possibly try to convey to them that would get them to change their minds. He would just have to keep the others inside until he could fight. Sure, Nick, Ellis, Rochelle, and Coach were strong and incredible with guns, but they couldn't take on a dozen or more Hunters. They weren't fast enough, good reflexes and all. The panic inflicted upon them when faced with a horde was enough to show that they wouldn't last in a horde of Hunters.

And from what Dal could tell from their muttered threats, it was possible that this particular pack of Hunter might just be controlling the horde in this city – whatever it was called - Atantissca, right? Who would've guessed that the apocalypse would have become such a dictatorship?

When he woke up hours upon hours later, the first thing he noticed was that Nick wasn't anywhere in his sight. According to the hands on the round thing with the letters on it that hung on the wall across the room from the couch, Nick ought to have woken up by this time. He glanced at the coffee table. Ellis and Nick's usual choice of guns were gone. Ah, yes, the semi-emergency store run.

When Rochelle walked out of the kitchen to give Dal his breakfast and otherwise wake him up, he had disappeared with a resolute slam of the front door.

* * *

**A/N**

**Dude. Holy crap it took me so long so finally write this. And when I did, it took me only a couple hours to write it. Goddamn myself.**

**OH ELLIS. YOU AND YOUR KEITH STORIES. Gee, I wonder what happened. We may never know.**

******"Ian" is a reference to the comedian Pablo Francisco. He did a skit on his first experience with Ecstasy, and one of the things that happened was that a girl asked him if he was "E-in", to which he replied, "Who's Ian?" and it went from there. Just thought you should know my obscure references. You can probably find the skit on youtube by searching "Ecstasy Pablo Francisco".**  


**For those of you who want to know what's wrong with Dal's ankle; He broke his Talus. The Talus is a bone in the ankle. Look it up. It's extremely difficult to actually break, but when you're jumping from second and third story windows I imagine its a little easier AHAHA. Anyway, he broke it, and while the "in the moment" pain receptors are shot to hell, if an injury hurts for long enough, I suppose eventually Dal will begin to suffer from it. Or something. Idfk stfu. G-ChanSanKun, AKA Gina the Althetic Trainer and Older Sister, told me all of this, . If you really want to know, PM her for your questions. HAHA NO I'M NOT TRYING TO GET HER TRAFFIC STFU I REALLY CAN'T EXPLAIN IT GOD.**

**Kitty the Kitten still hasn't got a name. I already know what I want to call her, but I still kind of want to know what you guys think I should call her. If you want to get a visual on this kitten, search **_i are cute kitten_** on youtube. It should be the first video you see. Its by **_nalts_**.**

**Chapter has been incredibly edited, in case you didn't notice. I didn't like how I wrote Dal being a big fucking brat, so I just completely removed that and ended the chapter way earlier than originally planned. The next chapter should be more intense on all accounts. This one is kind of filler-ish.  
**


	23. Bad Memories and Foreshadowing

**_Something Precious_**

**_Part Three_**

…

The snow, as Nick had said, was nearly gone from the streets. Spring was making itself known. The air was still crisp and cold, but the occasional burst of warmth from the sun was a definitive sign. The bodies were still mostly frozen. The smell of rotting flesh would be overpowering soon enough.

Somewhere along the way, Dal had caught up to them. Nick hadn't even bothered telling him to go home, because he knew that the Hunter would snort in acknowledgement but wouldn't actually obey. Ellis didn't seem to mind the extra company, and Nick wasn't up for a fight. Dal was welcome to follow, but he was given a gun and ordered to stay on the ground.

The sound of a chopper's blades cutting through the sky alerted them. Ellis lifted his head, blinking from the sunlight as he searched for the helicopter. Nick grabbed his shirt and dragged him behind a car, where the three of them sat, guns ready and breath bated.

Ellis glanced at Nick in confusion, noting how white the conman's face had become. He tilted his head slightly in confusion as the sound of the copter began to fade into the distance.

"What's wrong, Nick?" He asked, worried at that point; was there a reason for them to be avoiding the military? He understood that he was a likely target for the death penalty due to his status as a carrier, but still…

Was that a reason to hide behind a car to avoid being spotted?

Nick wasn't answering his question, but Ellis didn't think he wanted to pry. Not with the conman looking suddenly conscientious about his surroundings. Dal looked slightly worried, but he wasn't looking around so much as he was staring at Nick.

"Never thought I'd see another one'a them choppers again." Ellis thought aloud. Nick hummed in agreement, though it sounded more like an agitated grunt. The silence that befell them after that was awkward, tense, and painful to walk through.

.

The walk to their destination – A PetCo attached to a Wal-Mart that seemed to be on the opposite side of the entire city – was quiet. There was no sign of Infected of any kind, though that only made Nick's stomach churn more painfully. Dal's limp had gotten worse and he seemed to be in a great deal more pain than when he'd first caught up to them. Nick was beginning to regret letting him come along after all.

The door, like most cases, was already smashed up pretty badly. The metal had twisted in all kinds of directions. It was likely the work of a Tank. Nick touched the ruined frame, noting that it was cold. Whatever had done that wasn't around anymore, and hadn't been for a while.

Nevertheless, Nick knew he had to be cautious; it was cold out, so the metal would've cooled relatively quickly anyway. He scowled, beckoning Ellis and Dal forward. The sound of the chopper had returned, getting steadily louder and louder.

"Go in ahead of me," he half-shouted, keeping an eye out, "And watch your back… Last time I was anywhere near military I nearly died."

Ellis blinked in confusion; Nick still hadn't told them the story of the casino fiasco. Dal tugged him further into the building as Nick had requested, keep his sharp eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Nick was right outside the door, listening and looking around. He glanced behind himself briefly, signaling for them to stay put as he started away from the building.

The sound of the chopper was almost deafening, as if it was close enough to be landing. Nick stepped out of the shadow of the building and looked up. A strong wind was blowing at the conman from an above source, and Ellis' stomach suddenly lurched with anxiety.

"Nick!" He called uncertainly. A second later, Nick had turned around, taking perhaps a step forward before the sound of metal racking against stone split the air. Bricks and cements began to crumble and twist from the heat that filled the air.

Nick disappeared behind the collapsing front of the building, and only a second later something latched around his waist and dragged him away from the destruction.

"NICK!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, eyes wide in horror. A part of him wanted to be released so that he could run forward and look for the conman, but before he could even think about it Dal was in the air, dodging around the falling ceiling and collapsing walls.

His mind blanked out; Nick was either behind or within that wall of wreckage. He could be hurt, trapped, dead… All over again.

_"Nick! Nick!" He yelled, slamming his fist into the twisted, hot metal of the chopper. He could feel it teetering, swaying in the branches of the tree; he could hear Rochelle holding in her sobs, and Coach's hand was on his shoulder, shaking his head. Denial; no, Nick's not dead he can't be he's always been strong and he's always come back from things like this they've been through worse the guy'll be out in a minute you just gotta wait please we can't leave yet he might still wake up…_

When he opened his eyes, he noted that the wind had been knocked out of his chest. There was a blur hovering over him. He could feel wetness on his shoulder, smeared against his neck. Something dripped onto his cheek, ran down the side of his face, too thick to be tears. His head was throbbing; he might've hit his head on the way down. His line of vision cleared as he blinked away the pain.

Dal was over him, not pinning him to the ground; shielding him. The fabric of his hoodie that covered his shoulder was torn up and wet with blood. Ellis suddenly realized that the sensation of liquid on his neck and shoulder was probably from the wound on Dal's shoulder. The Hunter was shaking, his teeth clenched and his eyes squeezed shut.

Ellis could see something on his back; something that he had probably thrown himself in the way of to protect Ellis. The mechanic reached out, but retracted his hand almost instantly.

"D-Dal?" He croaked, "Dal, are you…?" The Hunter cracked open his eyes, an pained smile appearing.

_I'm okay_.

"Y… T-try not t'move… I'm gonna…" Dal just nodded, the movement barely noticeable. Ellis somehow managed to worm his way out from under Dal without moving the Hunter at all. His shaking became more violent once Ellis was free, and the mechanic knew he was about to collapse when he took in the situation.

It looked like a mirror, something that was probably once a store camera of sorts, "Hang in there, buddy," He said quickly, "Imma git this off you right now…"

It was heavy, but Ellis knew he had to lift it straight up. He could barely pick it up at all, but he managed. After a few brief seconds of assessing the weight, he managed to lift it off Dal's back and, with all the strength he carried in weight, heaved it to the side. By the time he looked back, the Hunter had collapsed to the floor, letting out miserable and very loud shrieks.

"Shh!" Ellis crouched down beside him, touching his cheek and trying to quiet him in case they weren't alone, "Shh, don' worry, yer okay. You're okay."

There were shards of glass protruding at odd angles from his back. Dal's remained on his stomach as Ellis slowly pulled them out. None of them were wedged in very far, but they were in deep enough to be causing massive amounts of excruciating pain. He cut his fingers more than once, but didn't pay it any mind.

The wound on Dal's shoulder was just that; a wound. It was deep and ugly, definitely not caused by a shard of glass judging by the bruising and messiness of it. Ellis didn't know what to do. The building had fallen apart around them, and from what he could see there wasn't a safe way out. Dal was bleeding like a stuck pig, curled up on the floor, clutching his shoulder and crying. Ellis had a pistol and that was it; Nick had been carrying all the medical supplies.

Dal had been badly injured protecting the mechanic, and now he couldn't even return the favor by keeping him alive.

.

"DAL!" He shouted, "ELLIS!" They couldn't hear him for one reason or another. He was shaking all over, punching the wreckage of a building in front of him. Nick clenched his teeth, cursing vehemently at the helicopter, and Wal-Mart, and PetCo, and the infection, and the stupid building, and the helicopter.

It wasn't long before Nick found himself pacing around the massive building. The few ways that looked like entrances were caved in or otherwise unusable or unsafe. He was more or less still shaking, his heart hammering in his throat and his lungs refusing to take in enough air to support a decent amount of consciousness.

He must've lapped it ten times before he made the decision to run back to the house and bring Coach and Rochelle to the store to help him. He clenched and unclenched his fists, biting his lip as he stared at the wreckage.

"I'll be back soon…" He breathed, turning away and taking off at a sprint.

.

Dal had always been a rather weightless person; Ellis hadn't had to carry him very often, but on the rare occasions that he could recall, the Hunter had always been a little too light to be healthy. Then again, he had the Green Flu, so healthy wasn't exactly a choice word in the first place.

After a few trial-and-error attempts, Ellis had managed to get Dal safely aboard his back. The Hunter was easy to walk while carrying, and since he was light the majority of Ellis' speed wasn't lost by the extra weight. He didn't dare try to climb over anything while carrying Dal, however, because he didn't want to risk tripping and dropping him.

As a result, every time he came across something that looked like a way out, he had to decide against it, knowing full and well that the boy on his back was in no condition to be climbing around. He seemed to have lost use of his right leg, leaving him a total cripple. Ellis didn't have to guess to know that he had aggravated the apparent injury to his ankle.

"Hey," Ellis' voice cut through the silence like a knife, alerting Dal enough to make him tense up slightly, "I think those're emergency stairs t' the roof… If I can get us up there…"

Dal hummed hoarsely in reply, his chest shuddering against Ellis' back. The mechanic was already terrified that Dal was going to die on his back. His breathing was a bit erratic and shallow, and he was beginning to shiver more frequently. His consciousness seemed to be fading somewhat, and it was making him nervous. He needed to get the Hunter to the others, fast.

"Hang in there, Dal…" He mumbled, making his way over to the slightly bent door. It was a bit hot to the touch, but Ellis didn't let it deter his determination. He pushed it open with his foot, clenching his teeth as it scraped against the broken up floor. The stairway was more of less intact. Keywords; more or less.

Several of the stairs were smashed up, and the entire structure looked unsafe and ready to collapse. There were spots where entire steps had caved in, but there was enough rock and torn up cement left behind that could act as a step.

"Dal," Ellis breathed, "Dal, listen ta' me." He could feel the Hunter raise his head, the fabric of his hood brushing against Ellis' neck. A hiss of pain; he seemed to be forcing himself to wake up.

"This thing… it don't look real… safe." Dal nodded slowly in reply, "But it looks like our only way ta' get outside…"

There was a long, agonizing pause. Ellis swallowed a mouthful of air into his lungs, forcing it past the frightened lump in his throat, "I might end up gettin' us both killed tryin' t'go up these stairs, though."

Dal let out a soft hum, hoping it sounded more content than it did miserable. Ellis let out a shaky sigh, "Yer cool wit' that?"

He nodded again.

Ellis took in a deep breath and started forward. As he got to the 9th step (he'd been counting), the floor began to creak and scratch beneath his boots. That may have simply been the sound of dirt scraping against the rough stairs, but Ellis wasn't about to pause to investigate.

He continued on, noting that the amount of stairs wasn't coinciding with the height of the building _at all_. The walk was proving to be less difficult than he had been anticipating; the few times that he'd been forced to take a larger step, or walk across particularly smashed up stairs, he'd found that there hadn't been any trouble.

He was practically holding his breathe when a loud, unhappy groan from the building reached him. He took an uneasy step forward as he looked up, forgetting that his foot was officially not on a stable stair. Dal tensed against his back, and Ellis felt him shiver slightly.

The sound of cracking cement and creaking steel reached them. The place seemed ready to collapse; under normal circumstances, it would've been evacuated and would likely have collapsed by this point. They'd been inside for nearly an hour. Ellis wondered briefly if Nick was still waiting for them outside, or if he'd given up, or if he'd run to Rochelle and Coach for help. The store was pretty far away; in the case of the final option, Nick might not even return in time to see the building go down.

_Unless, of course, Nick's trapped under this thing and **dead**. _

The little voice in the back of his head was beginning to sound like the man in question.

He took an unsteady step forward and missed the step, his foot landing just before it. A second later, the unstable rocks he was standing on slipped, and he nearly lost his footing, stumbling backwards.

The entire stairwell caved in underneath them; Ellis couldn't tell if it was just the stairs or the entire building, the noise was too loud to hear anything. He shut his eyes tightly, _oh God, Dal, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…!_

Something was wrapped around his entire torso, his hands gripping what felt like a pair of legs. He opened his eyes, met with mostly darkness and dust. When he managed to look up, he could see Dal, clutching to the edge of the stairs, his legs wrapped around Ellis to keep from falling.

At that point, Ellis wouldn't deny, he started to cry. But only a little. He took in a deep, shuddering breath. Dal looked down at him, eyes glazed over; he probably wasn't even fully conscious.

They began to move, and Ellis looked up. The stair was just in his reach; Dal had lifted him up as much as possible to give him the option of pulling himself the rest of the way up. Ellis was happy to oblige, reaching up and grabbing the hot remainder of the banister.

He pulled himself up at record time; Keith would've been proud. He turned back to Dal in time to see his hand slip, though the mechanic was able to grab his wrist before he went down. He pulled Dal up, his entire muscular structure trembling to the point that he was surprised at how much of his strength he was able to utilize.

He didn't bother resituating Dal on his back again; the building was coming down around them and they didn't have a lot of time anyway. He could hear other corners of the structure creaking and crumbling, and the two of them were already too close to the top to give up.

The door was jammed shut. Ellis couldn't muster the strength, no matter how hard he tried, to get the thing to even budge. He had sat Dal up against the wall beside the door for safe-keeping. He had kicked it, and thrown himself into it. He'd already ripped off the doorknob. For some reason, Wal-Mart and PetCo had managed to crumble and settle in just such a manner to seal the door to the roof. Just his _fucking luck._

He heard a low, tired growl behind him and turned to face Dal. The Hunter was standing, one hand on his shoulder, lips slightly parted as he panted for oxygen. He raised his free hand, signaling for Ellis to move.

"Dal," Ellis said, barely above a whisper, "I… No." He croaked, "No, ya've done enough. Siddown."

Dal raised his gaze slightly, shaking his head. He took an unsteady step forward, his expression telling Ellis to move all by itself. The mechanic smiled bitterly.

"No," He repeated, "Dal, you keep this up and yer gonna kill yourself. I'm tellin' ya, I'll figure it out, so gimme a minute. Besides, yer not kickin' in the door with your hurt foot, and ya' can't put enough weight on it ta' use the other one."

Dal let out an irritated groaned, shaking his head, "Dal," He croaked indignantly. He was insisting that he was fine, standing there swaying on one foot, bleeding from an array of injuries scattered across his back and arms, not to mention his newly broken nails and bruised and torn up fingers from the earlier fall.

"Dal," Ellis' voice was barely above a whisper, but it was a command nonetheless, "Sit. Down."

He was surprised how well he could imitate Nick. The Hunter looked taken aback, biting his lip as he stood there. He lowered his head, but didn't move.

"Yer aggravatin' your injuries. Let me take care of this, for God's sake." He said, sounding sympathetic, "Trust me, I know how it feels to be th' only man fer the job, and be unable to do tha' job."

It had happened more than once, though less often since they'd met Dal. Ellis would get injured in some manner or another, and be unable to do much of anything. He'd once gotten a concussion, resulting in the entire team deciding to take away his sniper. "The backlash could really hurt you, El."

Now he knew what they meant by "take it easy" and "let me take care of you." Dal wasn't used to be out of the fight, but he would have to learn to deal.

Dal raised his head after a moment, staring at Ellis. His eyes were still glassy, as they had been during their earlier fall. Abruptly, Ellis found himself slammed against the wall, the wind knocked out of him. He wheezed, doubled over and clutching his stomach. He winced, looking up as a loud bang reached him. Dal was straightening out and turning back to face him.

Ellis would've punched him right in the nose, but he was already pretty badly hurt. Also, the mechanic didn't really feel like explaining himself to a distraught Nick.

It was sudden, and he didn't have the reflexes to catch it. Dal's knees buckled and he collapsed forward, eyes squeezing shut as he hit the ground. He caught himself on his hands, one reaching back instantly to dig into his injured ankle. The sound that came out of his throat was deafening and made Ellis' blood run cold.

"Ya' idiot!" He couldn't help but snarl as he hurried over to the Hunter. He cupped his cheeks and raised his head. Staring at him carefully; as he had suspected, Dal was officially acting on rabies-induced strength-ridden instincts alone, but his body wasn't going to last if he kept it up. He was basically unconscious, his eyes slightly dilated and his face gaunt. Ellis bit his lip, glancing up at the doorway. He turned away from the Hunter, who quickly got the message. He felt Dal wrap his arms around his neck. Ellis stood up, gripping the Hunter under his knees and hoisting him higher up on his back.

"You're such a moron," Ellis mumbled, his head throbbing again. He stepped outside, into the cool air. Dal shivered against his back.

On nearly the opposite side of the roof, the entire building had caved. They would be able to get down over there. His eyes scanned the rest of the roof; it looked a lot more stable than the rest of the structure had been from inside, but he wasn't about to let that fool him.

He took a few tentative steps forward, but it seemed relatively stable. He started walking, quickening his pace and he hurried across the roof. Dal's breath was shaky and uneven, and his trembling was getting worse. He was going to get an earful from Nick when they got down from this stupid building.

"ELLIS!" He looked up, startled, but didn't stop walking, "DAL!"

He recognized the voice, which was coming from the spot he was walking towards. A slight smile of relief appeared on his face.

"Hang on, Dal," He muttered, "I'm gonna run, and I can't say fer sure that this place ain't gonna cave in when I do."

The arms around his neck tightened slightly, and Ellis improved the grip on Dal's legs as he started to jog, moving as fast as his legs would allow. Dal was suddenly a lot heavier than he had remembered.

"Almost there…" There was a creak that sounded all around him, like snapping rock and cement. His eyes widened, but he didn't stop.

"ELLIS!"

The sound coming from the collapsing building was like gun fire splitting the air. He didn't dare use up any air to call back to the others. He would need that breath when he started sprinting. Dal let out a soft growl in his ear, the message clear; _I can run, let me carry **you**._

"No, Dal!" He snapped, "Shuddup!"

The Hunter fell silent, burying his face into the back of Ellis' neck.

"DAL!" That was Nick yelling, and somewhere off in the distant the sound of the others' calling reached Ellis.

"Damnit…" He cursed. Out of the corner of his eye, Ellis saw a building. It wasn't the Wal-Mart and PetCo joint building; it was a separate one. It was a bit short, perhaps a Wegmans or something. Suddenly, he veered right. He heard Nick yelling their names again, and some part of him let out a bellow, a ca-caw to alert them.

When he heard Nick again, he was in the air, still holding on to Dal as he made the biggest leap of faith that would ever occur in his hopefully long and prosperous life. Dal had noticed the sudden lack of gravity, and he felt the Hunter sliding up slightly. He gripped tighter, lip between his teeth and eyes on the landing point.

He hit the ground hard, but didn't fall. He took a few unsteady steps forward, but didn't go to his knees. He took in a shuddering, horrified breath, shaking all over.

Dal's hands were in front of him, and he could see the Hunter clapping gently despite his fatigue and near heart-attack. Apparently, he had done a pretty good job with that random act of parkour.

"ELLIS! ELLIS!" He could hear the other's calling them again. He stepped over to the edge of the roof and looked down, spotting the trio standing in the alley between the two buildings.

"Ya'll shouldn't stand there!" He called, "Ya' might get crushed when that place comes down. It's about ta' collapse!"

Nick shook his head, laughing in spite of himself. He was more than disheveled and looked worse than hell.

"We'll be right up!" Ellis only smiled as the trio below him turned away and headed for the front of the store he and Dal were on top of.

* * *

**A/N**

**Dal, you're such a moron. He'll be fine, eventually. He'll need time to recover, but he'll live. Going to skip ahead a few days, get around that whole "Dal Recovering From Injuries" and such.**

**As it turns out, I might end up not naming the kitten after all. Goodness me. Well, in case that does happen, I'll just tell you that her name is _Las. _Get it? Dal and Las? Dallas? HAHA. I'M SO CLEVER LOLLOLOLOLOL. Oh, and in case any of you were wondering; the helicopter pilot got infected in some manner or another. That's why the chopper totally just crashed into fucking Wal-Mart/PetCo.  
**

**The buildings that Ellis just jumped, by the way, really weren't that far apart. He's no Hunter, trust me. That was more like a freak adrenaline thing. This chapter is 6 pages in MS Word. Also, please remember that Nick and Ellis and Dal didn't actually retrieve anything they went to the store for. Hence the "Foreshadowing." This chapter implied a lot of future events.**

**_EDIT: Went through and beta'd the story. I know, I know, I should've done that LONG before posting the chapter, but I was so excited to finally have written a full chapter I forgot. I think all of you just yelled, "BULLSHIT!" at the same time. I dunno, I might just be hearing thing. Anyway, if you read the story the day it was posted, you might want to reread so that it makes more sense. I didn't realize how many errors I made until _Kate the Night_ informed me of my fail!typing. She didn't call it that, but you know. Details.  
_**


	24. All That Remains

**_Something Precious_**

**_Final Part_**

…

"I told you it was a bad idea to keep her," Nick all but snarled at Rochelle as he followed her downstairs that morning. Dal was still upstairs, lying in bed beside his kitten. She had developed a case of pneumonia as the spring had approached, and while a second trip to a different supermarket had kept her from starving, Nick hadn't been able to come across any form of Kitty-Meds.

Dal seemed to sense early on that she wasn't going to make it; he had waken Nick up at four in the morning one day in hysterics, begging him in his own silent language to take the Hunter some place where they could get medicine. Nick had, upon inspecting the kitten's health, politely refused and given him the bad news regarding the last trip to the supermarket and the ridiculous lack of pet medication in the area.

Needless to say, he was upset. She wasn't quite dead yet, but Nick wasn't about to make bets on her survival, even if he was a pretty amazing gambler.

Rochelle wasn't happy, and Nick was simply pissed because he had known that something along these lines would occur, and then he'd have to deal with a hysterical Hunter for several days. He wasn't exactly looking forward to being right.

"Nick," Rochelle paused and turned to face him, a sour look on her face, "Would you stop talking for a second and think about how much of an ass you're being about this?" She snapped, "I get it if you don't like cats, and I get it if you're trying to pull off the whole 'told you so' speech, but none of that changes the fact that Dal is a mess and he's only going to get worse. I advise you get your head out of your ass and comfort him!"

Nick stopped dead, a scowl appearing on his face, "Why the hell do I have to?"

"_You_ picked him up in the swamps, _you_ get to take care of him, just like how he pulled that kitten out of the snow and _he_ took care of her." That was a pretty decent reason for him to have to comfort Dal, but that didn't make him any happier about it.

"I don't even know _how_ to 'comfort' idiotic Hunters," he grunted irritably. He was about to continue, but was interrupted by what sounded like a horrified shriek. Nick didn't have to speculate to know that his kitten wasn't moving anymore.

It was surprising to Nick how easily and immediately he reacted to distress. From Rochelle's shriek in that helicopter to Dal's misery at the death of his kitten; he had adapted well to be surrounded by people. He wasn't sure if he was happy about it, but what more could he do at this point?

He took the stairs two at a time and strode over to the door to his, Dal's, and Rochelle's shared bedroom (which, by the way, was ridiculous). The door was shut, and he could hear the Hunter sobbing hysterically behind it. He gnawed on the inside of his lip for a moment before raising a tentative hand and knocking gingerly.

The response he got was worse than he had expected; an angry, slightly frightening shriek. That was what Nick would have translated into a teenage boy telling his mom or dad to "go away" shortly after his girlfriend – love of his life – broke up with him. He shook his head in exasperation and grabbed the metal doorknob, not allowing any hesitation to show through as he walked into the room and shut the door behind him.

If Dal wanted privacy, then he would get privacy. Just not from Nick.

Nick could see Dal tense when he heard the door shut, his sobs quieting slightly and being replaced by hiccupping and soft growls. The conman sighed, a sympathetic look on his face; he'd never lost something so small despite the care he may have given it, but Nick had had his fair share of losses in his lifetime, and lives were one of those things. To Dal, that kitten had been as precious as a single flower in a field of weeds, as Cheryl had been to Nick.

But everybody dies eventually; it's just a matter of predicting it so you're prepared.

For a brief few seconds, Nick assessed the situation, the emotional turbulence, the mourning. Dal was on his knees, slumped over the side of the bed. The kitten was beside his hands, untouched by the Hunter and clearly not breathing. She was lying on her side, as if she had just gone to sleep and not reawakened.

He didn't say anything right away, understanding that Dal wasn't in the "life is a box of chocolates" and "everyone has to go" kind of mood. His baby girl had just died, and there was nothing to change the fact that he was upset. Nick knelt down beside the Hunter, shifting his weight onto his slightly bruised knees.

Slowly, yet deliberately, Nick wrapped an arm around Dal's shoulder, rubbing his arm gently. Nick wasn't going to try and make it any easier, because it knew that it wasn't possible. Nick was just going to be there in case Dal needed to hit something.

Of course, Nick should've known that Dal wasn't the "punch things when I'm upset" kind of person. There was a brief pause where Dal relaxed slightly, taking in several shuddering breaths and putting a momentary halt to his cries. The Hunter lifted his head off the bed, his cheeks blotched with a nasty shade of pink, and his face streaked with tears. He looked like he had rubbed his eyes until the skin around them was raw, his lips pale and bleeding where he had been chewing on them. The scars that decorated his face looked uglier than usual, and Nick could see that he needed to give the Hunter another bath.

Dal reached out with both hands, and Nick had to force himself not to shrink away from the contact. The younger boy didn't move, hands held up and uncertain, as if he wasn't sure if Nick would allow such a show of affection. The conman didn't move, hoping that his expression was an "okay sure" and not "don't fucking touch me." Dal's lower lip trembled and he fell onto the conman, hugging him tightly and nearly knocking him to the floor. In response to the embrace, Nick awkwardly reached up a hand and patted Dal's back, using his other arm to keep the two of them mostly upright.

Nick let out a sigh, glancing over at the tiny body on the bed, unmoving and brimming with innocence. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth; would anything _good_ make it through this man-made massacre of humankind?

**_Dal is good_**.

He sometimes wondered what the Hunter's full name was. If he had a mother, a father. A sister, a brother, younger or older. If he had a twin, perhaps grandparents, uncles and aunts, cousins, people who loved him. A close-knit family with few friends or the backbone of a community. Democrats or Republicans. Catholics or Protestants, Atheists, Druids, Spiritualists…

Dal's life was lost; he might never recover from the Green Flu. He might die during a fight, never knowing that he was bleeding out until he lost consciousness. The scars on his once handsome face (Nick was sure he had been handsome) would be permanent reminders of his days as a societal monster, even if he did recover. Dal couldn't talk; he had lost his memory of everything prior to the infection.

**_Dal is lost._**

**_Dal is good._**

Two contradicting statements that showed Nick one thing; _nothing good will make it out of this._

He wrapped his arms around the Hunter and pulled him closer, letting out a shaky sigh and closing his eyes. He relaxed, despite his reservations and distaste for human contact. Dal let out a strangled sob, and Nick held him tighter.

They didn't bury her until sunset, Nick wanting to wait until Dal was ready to say his final goodbye. The Hunter couldn't write; his hands shook worse than anything when he tried, but Nick gave him a marker and a more or less flat rock and told him to pay his respects. The conman couldn't make out what it said, and he didn't know if Dal was even sure of what he was trying to say. Nevertheless, they planted it on the ground above the tiny grave. Coach said a prayer, the words sounding strangely hollow compared to what Nick remembered from Savannah.

They left Dal outside to mourn, Nick planting himself near a window with a pistol, just in case. Coach patted his shoulder, likely sensing the distress in the conman's posture. Nick turned in his seat and looked the older man straight in the eye, noting that Rochelle and Ellis were watching from slightly farther away.

He smiled at Coach, "Don't let go." He spoke softly, his voice barely sounding like it belonged to him. He turned back to the window and stared at Dal's back. He could see shadows darting around in the darkness of the sunset, other Hunters watching and waiting, but never attacking.

The older man looked slightly confused; Nick could see his reflection in the window. He sighed, watching as Dal stood up slowly and took a step away from the grave.

Nick continued, "There are a few good things left, Coach."

Dal pushed opened the back door, a smile on his face that none of the survivors recognized.

"Dal…" He breathed a sigh of contentment, eyes still brimming with tears, "Las…"

**_Dal is good_**

* * *

**A/N**

**Dal just christened his kitten in that last sentence, by the way. In case you were wondering.**

**The kitten is now dead; sorry folks, I honestly wasn't going to have her live from the beginning. That was what I meant by foreshadowing; they didn't buy any petmeds, and she was already sick so she just got worse. She lasted until the end of winter, though. Manly tear.**

**Nick's have one of those moments of self-discovery that I love to write. Took me a while to get this out, but I'm happy with the results.**

**EDIT: I got a comment from someone asking if this chapter "was it". NOT the case; this is just the final part of this particular Aftermath. There will be more storylines, I just need to straighten them out in my head first. :)_  
_**


	25. Nick Has Obviously Never Gone Camping

_Alternate title; If Only Bear Grylls Were Here_**_  
_**

* * *

**_Something Else – Aftermath Chapters_**

**_._**

**_A Series of Unfortunate Events_**

**_Part One_**

**_…_**

The kindling that had almost given birth to a fire went out too quickly for Nick to be able to save it. Another failed attempt at creating a source of heat and light only added to his steadily growing frustration and anxiety. It was too bad that he had no strength left, or he'd find a method of exacting his revenge upon the world that would be less damaging to his self-esteem.

Nick cursed under his breath, dropping the few matches that he had left and drawing his knees up to his chest so he could bury his face into his arms. Dal approached his from a pool of darkness to Nick's left, alert as always. Despite being infected with the second most violent strain of the Green Flu, Dal seemed to be better at remaining calm than his uninfected companion.

The light continued to dim around them as a soft, choked whimper forcefully reminded Nick that he _needed_ this fire. He glanced over his shoulder at Ellis, barely conscious with messy, blood-stained bandages wrapped all around his torso. The kid was sick, and Nick needed to keep his warm. He bit back frustration and picked up the matches once again.

"C-cold…" Ellis' voice was barely above a strained whisper. Nick couldn't tell if he was asleep or not. Nick looked over at him again and forced a reassuring smile, one of his last four matches ready to be lit in his hands.

"Hang in there, El," He purposefully referred to Ellis with the nickname he claimed to dislike with the hopes that it might make _someone_ feel better, "I _will_ get this fire going."

But he didn't.

Nick reached into the matchbox once again, forgetting that he had just used the fourth out of his remaining four matches. He fished around for a moment, only to realize that he had run out of matches. He somehow managed to swallow the urge to start shrieking and swearing and forced himself to think of something else that he could do to help Ellis through the night.

He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of the dark pile of useless kindling, tapping his lips with his finger and trying to think. Trying to think of a plan – something he could do to help Ellis. A way for him to protect the mechanic, save his life from illness and infection, get his to safety, treat his wounds…

More importantly, get him through this particularly chilly spring night.

He looked around himself, noting that, despite his obvious worrying, Dal was nowhere in sight. His eyes widened and he looked around, calling the Hunter's name softly, as he didn't want to alert any infected that may or may not be in the area. He took a couple of steps towards where he knew Ellis was laying so that he'd be able to see the kid in the pitch-black of the night.

He spotted the Hunter instantly, curled up as close to Ellis as was physically possible. He was using his own body heat to keep the mechanic warm. How incredibly thoughtful of him. Nick sighed in relief, a slight smile gracing his features as he walked over to the duo. Ellis was sleeping, and it looked like Nick could've poured a bucket of ice cold water on him and he wouldn't wake up. The kids face was ashen and his cracked lips were slightly parted. He was heavily congested, and Nick had noticed a day or so ago that he had developed a nasty, wet cough that sounded pneumonic. Nevertheless, Nick took off the black blazer that he had adopted to replace that part of his white suit and shuffled over to the darker area where he had laid Ellis to sleep for the night. It was hidden by large, overgrown bushes with thick leaves and strong branches. They provided enough shade to completely obscure anyone sitting or laying beneath them. Considering that they were mostly surrounded by tall trees and thick shrubbery on all sides, it was a perfect hiding spot, at least for the moment.

The helicopter had crashed just off a state highway that Nick didn't remember the name off at the moment. He had somehow managed to lead Dal – burdened with the weight of Ellis and an injured ankle – into the dense bit of forestry off the highway. There weren't any towns nearby, so Nick hadn't exactly been worrying about infected, but he never knew when some big lumbering giant would wander by.

He tucked his blazer around Ellis' shoulders, hoping that it would help at least a little bit. Ellis wasn't exactly known for getting cold, and Nick hadn't expected him to fall so incredibly ill as suddenly as he had. Dal shifted slightly, lifting his head to look almost expectantly at the conman hovering over them.

Nick frowned, easily deciphering Dal's silent message. He shook his head in resignation, understanding quite easily that he didn't have all that much of a choice at the moment. He got down on the ground on Ellis' other side, opposite of Dal, and somehow managed to get comfortable within close proximity to him. He shut his eyes, trying to pretend to sleep with the hopes that he could convince himself that he was asleep and, thus end up falling asleep.

His mind wandered to Rochelle and Coach – they hadn't been on the chopper with Ellis, Dal, and himself. They were probably waiting for them to come back in New Jersey, or looking desperately for a crashed helicopter to deem whether their survival was even possible. Nick had no idea how far away they were from New Jersey. He had no idea how far away he was from anything, and he most certainly had no idea how he was going to transport Ellis to better safety before the kid died.

The bottom line was that he needed two things; a mode of transport and a map.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hey folks! It's true, I have FINALLY updated! I actually had this chapter done as of quite a while ago; I just neglected to post it. Teehee. The flood is done and over with; me and my family have moved to a much better location (AKA, a mountain top) and we're doing just fine, with the exception of our lacking funds. So, we're all starving to death but at least I can still write, right? AHAHAHA.**

**You will come to understand what happened to Ellis over time. I didn't mention it in this chapter, but do you remember when Dal broke his ankle, more specifically his talus? I told you about that, and I referenced my genius sister... It was during the Las saga. If you don't remember, go back through the Las saga and read the Author's notes. I think it was either Part Two or Part One of the saga.**

**Anyway, the point is that I want you to keep that fact in mind; Dal somewhat-recently broke his ankle. **

**Somehow, Something Else went from ended to recontinued. Ack! I should be writing in my unfinished projects! ._.  
**


	26. IOU

**_A Series of Unfortunate Events_**

**_Part 2_**

**_…_**

The morning was much colder than Nick had been expecting. While there was a definite pocket of heat radiating off Ellis, his missing garment had left him chilled to the bones. He didn't want to try and imagine how impossibly cold Ellis probably was. He let out a soft sigh, rolling over to get a look at the mechanic's face. He didn't _look_ any worse, but Nick was assuming that his fever had probably gone up overnight.

Nick slowly pulled himself up off the uncomfortable ground and turned to face Ellis so that he could touch his forehead. Dal shuddered in his sleep and sat up rather abruptly, looking around blearily and settling his focus on Nick and Ellis. The conman gently touched Ellis' forehead, trying to recall exactly how warm he had been yesterday so he could make a comparison. Unfortunately, he didn't remember, but if he had to make a guess, he would say that Ellis' fever had gone up, though not by too much.

Ellis' eyes cracked open slowly, and they looked watery and miserable. A frown tugged at the corners of Nick forced smile, but he didn't falter. "Hey, kid," He greeted softly, "Better? Worse?"

Ellis somehow managed to smile back at Nick, a violent tremor wracking his body. He was freezing, and it was more than obvious to Nick, even if the younger man tried to hide it. Dal's eyes were brimming with worry and anxiety, and Nick could feel the tension as Ellis cleared the phlegm out of his throat so he could reply.

"A…" He coughed, taking a moment to clear his throat yet again before he continued, "A lil' worse, I think…"

The conman nodded in response, swallowing the lump in his throat, "I um… I couldn't get the fire started last night, Ellis." He said, taking his time to choose the words. The apologetic tone felt foreign on his tongue, "I'm sorry." He felt incredibly useless. Ellis was dying on the earthen floor beside him, and he could do absolutely nothing to help. He couldn't even make the mechanic more comfortable.

Ellis' fingers tapped Nick's hand, bringing the conman out of his shell of thought. Ellis smiled, the look piercing a hole directly through Nick's heart. He almost retracted his entire being and was tempted to run.

"S'okay…" Ellis mumbled, his voice sounding thick, "You n' Dal kept me plenty warm…"

Nick snorted, easily catching on to Ellis' teasing words. He looked up at Dal, their eyes meeting. In just a moment, they exchanged a full-length conversation. Ellis couldn't understand the silent gestures and slight movements that flew between them, but Dal picked up on every twitch in Nick's being, and Nick noticed every shift in Dal's expression.

Finally, Dal jerked his head towards the steadily rising sun. Nick bit his tongue and hissed in pain as he broke their eye contact. Dal was right; they couldn't stay holed up in the bushes forever. Hell, they couldn't stay holed up in the bushes for a week. Ellis was ill, and needed treatment as soon as possible. At the very least, Nick needed to give him some kind of antibiotics to fend off the worst of the fever and infection. However, Dal's ankle was injured and there was no way Nick was going to let him carry anyone. On the other hand, Nick himself couldn't carry anyone.

He needed a car.

Nick chewed his lip in frustration; of _course_ he needed a car. Of _course_ he needed the _one thing_ that he absolutely did _not_ have access to. He didn't want to leave injured Dal and sick and dying Ellis alone, but he didn't have a choice. He would have to walk, alone, to the nearest town, city, village, hamlet, or highway – whatever was closest – and find a functioning car that he could bring back to Dal and Ellis. Once he had done that, he would drive them back to Atlantic City and hunt down Rochelle and Coach.

He would just have to hope that he'd be able to make it to the nearest town, city, village, hamlet, or highway in one piece. He hadn't _seen_ any infected when they'd crashed, but he also knew that there were always more infected where there were more cars. He sighed heavily in resignation and stood up to address Dal and Ellis.

While the mechanic seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness, Dal was alert and prepared to take whatever Nick threw at him. The conman chewed his lip for a moment, eying the duo. Sometimes, he really felt like an older brother or something.

"I'm going to get us a car," The conman finally said. Dal was about to stand up, prepared to join him, when Nick grabbed his shoulder and held him in a sitting position, "Alone."

The pause was rather loud, and it didn't last. Dal let out a displeased growl to show just how much he disapproved of Nick's genius plan. Nick turned his gaze onto the Hunter, putting on his Captain-Commander hat as he continued, "You hurt your ankle, Dal. I noticed, even if you've forgotten. And Ellis is extremely sick. You need to protect him." Dal made some wide gestures that indicated that he could easily carry the mechanic and the promise that his leg was fine.

Nick shook his head, "No. There is nothing you can do or say to make me change my mind, Dal. You stay here with Ellis, I'll go get us a car."

Dal let out an indignant snarl, making more gestures and looking like he was both angry at Nick for saying he was weak and horrified of the idea of leaving his partner alone. He pushed Nick's hand off his shoulder and stood up; purposefully leaning on his right leg, the one Nick knew was injured, just to prove that it was fine.

Nick rolled his eyes and let out a loud, angry huff. He was getting annoyed with the Hunter's determination and ridiculousness. Dal was about to continue when Nick cut him off, "Shut up," he snapped, "And do as I say, alright? You're _hurt_, and whether you feel it or not, your body needs to repair itself before you start jumping trees and assassinating Tanks."

Dal opened his mouth, and seemed to remember that he didn't have voice. He shut his mouth again and lowered his gaze. He was obviously upset.

"I'll do this as fast as I can, okay?" Nick said, "I can't say how long it'll take to walk to the nearest car, but I'll come back as quickly as I can."

Dal looked at him with a face that was easier to read than a book – _how long?_

Nick glanced up at the sky for a thoughtful moment, "two moons and," Nick pause, doing a second of mental math, "three suns. If I'm not back by then, you can start worrying. And it probably won't take that long so _relax._"

Without further conversation, Nick stooped to grab the guns he had collected from the middle-of-nowhere safe house that had been too dilapidated for them to stay in, placing his magnum in his holster and slinging his AK-47 over his shoulder. He bid Dal farewell and crept out of the overgrowth, making sure to hide himself as well as possible until he rather suddenly stumbled out onto a road. He looked around, eying the faded lines; judging by the scenery and the kind of lines he was standing next to, he was on either a County Route or a State Route. A two lane highway, the same kind he had used to get around after the fiasco in New Orleans. He frowned, wondering why that particular event was so hard to forget.

Nevertheless, he looked around the road, hoping that maybe he'd find a sign to tell him which direction was which and maybe a sign to tell him how far he was from the nearest town, city, village, hamlet, or highway. There weren't any signs at all and he couldn't see any buildings in the distance. He was going to have to walk quite a ways. A sigh found its way out of his throat and he did rock paper scissors with himself a few times to decide which direction to go.

If he were to judge it by the sun, he was traveling west. Maybe. Was it in the west or in the east that the sun rose? He didn't remember. He shook his head and started walking away from the rising sun, hoping that he would find a car without having to travel too far. His luck, he was sure, had already run out and had yet to be replenished, but a guy can hope, right?

…

Nick only spent a short while walking before he encountered a sign telling him that he was on state highway 690, and he was apparently traveling west. The number sounded vaguely familiar, but he was reasonably certain that there was probably more than one state highway of the particular number, so seeing the sign didn't help him very much.

He trudged on for quite a while. He didn't bother trying to keep track of how long it was taking him to get there because he didn't want to know. Nick didn't want to think about how miserable and scared Ellis was, and how long he would be feeling like that. Nick chest felt tight with anxiety; he knew, despite how much he wanted to deny it, that Ellis was worse than sick. Just by listening to the boy breathing through the night, the continuous coughing, and the rattling of his chest…

Ellis probably had pneumonia, and Nick absolutely did _not_ have the training, the supplies or the resources to treat him. The best thing he could do would be to get Ellis to Rochelle and Coach. But what if Ellis didn't make it that far? What if he returned to the little campsite and Ellis had died and Dal was gone?

He remembered when they had first joined forces in that hotel with the determination to get rescued and hopefully never see each other again afterwards. Nick had positively despised Ellis. The kid had lived something of a carefree, happy-go-lucky life compared to Nick's personal Hell of a childhood. Seeing Ellis had made him both envious and furious; how could he be so ignorant as to find a zombie apocalypse "cool"? Didn't the kid have any friends that might be dead?

It hadn't occurred to Nick until much later, but eventually he figured that Ellis dealt with this particular doomsday by making a joke out of it. That was how he could keep going; with the naïve hope that eventually it would be over and everyone would be fine. Somehow, Nick found himself wishing it wouldn't end, simply so that Ellis could keep hoping that his family and friends were alive, whether they actually were or not.

On the other hand, Nick was finding that the zombie apocalypse was a kinder environment for him compared to a regular, functional society. He smiled grimly at the thought and continued forward, his mind wandering back to Ellis.

That kid had somehow managed to worm his way into Nick's chest cavity and surgically remove a large piece of his left ventricle. Nick had been hoping that he had hardened his shell enough to ward people like Ellis, Rochelle, and Coach away, but it hadn't worked. Ellis had taken the left ventricle; Coach the right. Rochelle seemed to have spread a poisonous kind of cancer throughout his very bloodstream that made him far too attached to her for him to be comfortable. Nick wasn't suitable for a decent person like Rochelle. He needed to die so they wouldn't end up too close and potentially falling in L-O-V-E.

Fuck, the L word. Now that it had come to mind, he was thrown back into New Orleans and found himself reliving the night Cheryl had been ripped right out of his hands, simply because he was far better at poker than the other players had thought.

He didn't think of it as L-O-V-E. He thought of it more like attachment caused by a chaotic event. It would go away after the infection ran its course. Hopefully.

Somehow, he wandered back to Ellis, thinking of everything he owed to everyone. He owed his life to Rochelle; he owed his sanity to Coach. He owed a good ass-kicking to his dead older brother. He owed a good ol' fashion bitchslap to Trisha. He owed his mother hugs and kisses. He owed Jared a handshake. He owed and owed and owed…

For once in his miserable little life, Nick was sure that he wanted to repay all his debts before he died.

* * *

**A/N**

**Yay I updated again! Nick is on another journey.**

**It actually occurred to me just now that, despite what I said in the previous chapter, you probably _aren't_ going to find out what happened to the trio. You'll find out what happened to Ellis, but not why they were in a helicopter and crashed into the middle of nowhere (again).**

**So I'll just tell you. A platoon showed up to retrieve Dal, Nick responded in a Nich-ish fashion, Ellis was already wounded, and so the three of them ended up going together. Rochelle and Coach were out somewhere when all this occurred. In the end, Nick, Ellis and Dal ended up getting the pilot infected and causing the crash of the chopper. Again.**


	27. Don't Talk On The Phone While Driving

**THIS CHAPTER IS A REWRITE! SO EVEN IF IT LOOKS VERY FAMILIAR, PLEASE READ IT! **

* * *

**_A Series of Unfortunate Events_**

**_Part 3_**

**_…_**

The nearest town wasn't all that big, thankfully. Nick didn't have to try very hard to keep infected away, because there weren't many there. There wasn't much of anything in this place. He didn't even know what "this place" was called, because he had yet to come across a sign telling him where he was. He still didn't know what state he was in, either. This was getting to be mildly frustrating.

Nevertheless, he wandered down the Main Street, keeping an eye on the various cars. The ones that blinked had car alarms that would absolutely go off if he attempted to get into them. A lot of them were blinking. The ones that weren't were locked and he didn't happen to have any of the usual break-into-car tools that he would've needed to get into them.

He continued forward, his stomach in knots as he did his poor best to push Ellis and Dal to the back of his mind. It wasn't working very well, but hey, it's the thought that counts.

His keen eyes spotted a black SUV – it looked like a Chevrolet Suburban – and he made his way over to it. The lights didn't blink, and he could see as he got closer that the door wasn't shut all the way. It seemed that the seatbelt had gotten between the locks and prevented it from shutting when its inhabitants had run out to do whatever they had been doing.

He pulled the door open and immediately saw that the keys were still in the ignition. He raised his eyebrows skeptically; there was no way anything was going to be _this_ easy. Deciding it couldn't hurt to give it a try; Nick clambered into the driver's seat, crossed his fingers, and reminded himself not to hope _too_ much.

He turned the key, listening to the engine splutter and choke on itself. He clenched his teeth and waited, his fingers still wrapped around the key. It choked one last time before the engine came to life, a deep hum telling him that it was functional. Ellis had told him before that if you let a car sit for too long, it would die. This simply suggested to Nick that this vehicle hadn't been sitting for _too_ long.

He sat in the car for a moment, wanting to let the engine work through itself for a few seconds before he started driving it. He glanced over to the passenger seat, noting the radio set up and map on the dashboard. Nick didn't hesitate to reach over and grab the map, watching a pair of FBI badges fall to the ground. An FBI issued SUV. Nice.

He pulled the map open. There were spots on the map that were marked green, and other spots that were marked red. But there was one particular place that had a penciled in check mark on it. Athens, Ohio.

"Ohio?" He croaked, "Damn it!" Nevertheless, he found a pen and looked over the map for a brief moment, pointing out roads to himself and mentally beginning to plan a route back to New Jersey.

He folded the map up and pushed it back onto the dashboard, putting the car into reverse and turning it around so that he could get back on the road. He could only pray that Ellis and Dal would be alive and well when he returned.

.

He pulled over near the recognizable brush. He parked the car and turned it off, hurriedly getting out and heading towards the trees. He didn't want to call their names, as he wasn't entirely sure what was in these trees, but he wasn't sure if Dal wouldn't be ready to attack him if he showed up unannounced.

Nevertheless, he'd rather risk his own safety than Ellis and Dal's, so he kept his mouth shut and crept through the shrubbery in silence.

He didn't recall there being this much in the way of bushes. He pushed through and finally found the clearing. Ellis was sitting up against a tree, and Dal was sleeping on his lap. Nick hurried over to Dal's side and touched his hip to rouse him. The Hunter blearily opened his eyes, and Nick hastily put a finger to his lips to shush him. The Hunter nodded mutely, a grin on his face. It was clear that he had been worried sick.

"We need to carry Ellis to the car," Nick muttered, "C'mon, can you walk alright?"

Dal snorted as quietly as he could and got up. He knew that Nick wouldn't let him carry Ellis by himself with his ankle apparently injured, so he stood on standby and waited for direction. Nick gave him careful instruction for a two-man carry, and since they were so close in height, the carry was incredibly easy. Nick's stomach churned when Ellis barely stirred at the sudden movement, his blue eyes easing open for only a moment before he fell asleep again.

They got him buckled into the back seat and Nick found an emergency blanket, some antibiotics and several bottles of water in the trunk. He managed to wake Ellis just long enough to make him take some of the antibiotics with one of the bottles of water. He told the boy to drink water whenever he could wake up enough to do so, but Nick wasn't entirely sure that Ellis registered his words before he fell back asleep.

Dal got into the front seat and Nick reminded him how to buckle his seatbelt before he grabbed the map off the dashboard and walked himself through his route once more. He handed the map to Dal and told him to hold on to it. The Hunter nodded mutely, easily able to understand how worried Nick was.

Nick was quiet for nearly three hours before he started mumbling to himself, something about… Dal wasn't even sure. Dal's ankle had started to throb and ache, and he wasn't entirely sure why. He had jumped into a tree during the time that Nick had been gone, and he knew that he must've aggravated the injury a bit on his awkward landing, but he wasn't used to constant pain. Usually it would go away over time, but it seemed to be getting worse instead. He clenched his teeth as he adjusted the way his foot sat on the floor of the car, pursing his cracked lips as a wave of excruciating pain rolling all the way up his leg.

Nick was glancing at him repeatedly, his eyebrows scrunched together with something that looked like irritation.

"What's wrong? Is it your foot? What did you do?" He asked quickly, looking at the Hunter again and again as he waited for some kind of reply. Dal didn't want to tell him that he had jumped in and out of a tree; Nick would be furious with him for disobeying a direct order. Dal averted his gaze as he thought of a lie to tell.

"Does it hurt?" Nick wasn't looking at him anymore, his face as white as his knuckles on the steering wheel. Dal looked over at him again, eyes slightly wide in worry. Nick looked scared; it wasn't worry or even agitation. It was pure terror, and Dal didn't know why. He had never seen Nick look like that, had he? No, he couldn't remember a time.

Then again, that wasn't a surprise. Dal didn't remember a lot of things.

"Dal?" Nick glanced at him briefly, "Does it hurt?" He repeated. Dal nodded slowly, making a face. Nick wasn't angry with him, but Dal would honestly have preferred it if he had been angry. He didn't like seeing Nick with that kind of face.

"I picked up some painkillers while I was in town with this car," He said, "Do you want some? Do you think they'd work?"

Dal looked at him again, thinking about it for a moment. The pain wasn't _that_ bad. He would've been able to walk fine if he had needed to, and now that he had adjusted his foot, it didn't hurt much at all. Would painkillers help him, considering he was infected? Probably not.

He shook his head, smiling valiantly. Nick looked over at him again and nodded, "Alright… If you want something, just let me know." He muttered.

.

Three hours turned to four, which turned to five and then six. Nick didn't stop for anything; he didn't want to waste time for food or supplies or anything when he could be driving to potentially save Ellis' life. Occasionally, the mechanic would start coughing, and occasionally it would turn into a coughing fit where Nick would have to tell Dal to climb into the back seat and help him settle his coughing. Dal would lean his seat back and do as he was told. It was absolutely the most dangerous thing that Nick allowed Dal to do while they were in the car together.

At that very moment, Dal was sitting in the back seat with Ellis, rubbing his back to keep him in a slightly forward leaning position so he could cough up as much as would come up into the small bucket that they had picked up the one time Nick had stopped for supplies. The conman looked into his rearview mirror every so often to see how they were doing; this coughing fit was particularly bad.

"Is he alright?" Nick asked slowly, Dal looked up and nodded. He pointed at his own chest and gave a thumbs up. That simply meant that Ellis was breathing alright. The coughing fit stopped after a few moments of dry heaving, and, as it had been four hours since his last dose, Dal gave him another pill out of the bottle that Nick had given him.

His knuckles were white and sweaty on the steering wheel, and he couldn't calm down enough to relax his grip. His eyes kept wandering to the radio set up beside his knee. Nick wondered if there was any chance that the radio stations were still up, and that maybe, just _maybe_ there was someone broadcasting locations for emergency assistance of any and all kinds. Maybe a hospital that was set up specifically for survivors refusing to be rescued for whatever reason, or maybe some place for carriers that hadn't yet died. Or maybe the military had a base where they were starting their takeover of the eastern end of America.

He didn't know, but he wanted to try. He glanced into his rearview mirror again and looked at Ellis. The boy's face was ashen, and Nick could see how watery his eyes were from the fever. He was awake and more alert than he had been before the antibiotics, but Ellis had pneumonia. Ellis needed a hospital.

He reached over and pushed the power button on the radio, and was met with static. Nick, who needed to have his eyes on the road in case of suicidal Infected that ran out in front of him, spent a brief second instructing Dal on how to turn the tune knob very slowly.

So he drove, listening to Dal slowly shift through radio stations. They were all full of static. He crossed the border into Pennsylvania and was about to give up when, rather suddenly, a station came to life under Dal's hand.

"Hold it!" Nick said, his voice coming out more like a snarl than a rushed command. Dal's hand pulled away from the tuner as if it had grown hot and burned his fingers. Nick reached over and adjusted the tuning just slightly, listening as the words cleared up. Currently, the man on the station was giving reports of the military's plans for the retaking of the eastern side of the Mississippi and warning people that their loved ones might be among those dead when the eastern coast was back under control.

Nick listened as he repeated the report. According to the radio, military had taken back everything from the topmost corner of the United States to the north-most tips of New York, although they had set up bases along the entire eastern coast.

"To all those listening within the eastern side of the Mississippi," the reported said, beginning another report, "If you are or know of three survivors by the names following; Nicholas, Ellis, and Dallas, please tune your radios to 34.4, we have a line set up to receive your call, and a radio tuned to 56.7 to receive any radio transmissions. I repeat; Nicholas, Ellis, and Dallas, your sister and father are looking for you. Please tune to 56.7 to radio in, or 34.4 to find out a number to call in with."

Nick was sure that his Adam's apple had dropped quite promptly into his gut. He swiftly tuned to 56.7 on the other radio, the one that he could use to "call in" with. He grabbed the talking piece and pushed the button on the side of it, his voice shaking as he spoke into it.

"Rochelle? It's Nick…" He said slowly, "Are you there?"

There was a long, agonizing pause, "Nicholas?" That was _not_ Rochelle or Coach, "Sir, are you one of the three survivors that Rochelle and uh… Coach are looking for?"

Nick let out a sigh of relief, "Yes," He replied, "Ellis and Dallas are with me."

"Nicholas, please hold on just a moment while I wire you to the appropriate destination so that you may speak with your loved ones."

Nick nodded at the windshield, muttering some half-hearted words of thanks. The radio was overcome with the sound of static, and Nick turned down the volume a bit. Dal had decided to simply stay in the back seat with Ellis, and Nick was about to tell him to put on his seat belt when Rochelle's voice suddenly broke through the static. He could barely hear her, so he turned up the volume.

"Nick?" Her voice was fuzzy, but Nick could mostly understand her. "Ni-… Where are… ou?"

He spoke loudly and clearly so he could be sure that he was understood. Ellis shifted slightly in the back seat, clearing his throat loudly.

"We just crossed the border into Pennsylvania," Nick replied, "I'm not sure which route or highway this is."

There was a fuzzy sounding murmur over the radio, and for a moment Nick thought he had lost the signal or something. His stomach flopped with anxiety, and he glanced into his rearview mirror to see what Dal and Ellis were doing. Ellis was still sleeping, but Nick couldn't help but suddenly notice that Ellis' face had regained much of its color. The antibiotics they had been giving him seemed to be doing the trick, in some fashion or another.

It had started to rain; droplets of water fell against the windshield and steadily began to obscure Nick's vision. He turned on the windshield wipers and gritted his teeth. He had been expecting rain for a couple of hours, but he was worried that he might lose the signal if it turned into a nasty storm.

"Put on your seatbelt, Dal," the Hunter quickly obliged, and Nick was glad he had remembered to tell him. God forbid if they had gotten into an accident somehow.

"Nick," Rochelle's voice was still fuzzy, but he could hear her a little better than before, "Nick, you sti-… ere?"

"Yea, I'm here," He responded, "What's going on?"

Coach's was the one that spoke next, and his stronger voice made it easier to understand him, "Nick, you drivin' a …ack SUV?"

Nick furrowed his brow, "Yea, I jacked it out of some town in Ohio. Athens. Why?"

"We ha… visual," Coach replied, sounding slightly relieved, "There's a trackin' device …at car, so we know exactly where yo…"

Nick was about to reply when he saw something dark and mostly shapeless move onto the road. He flashed on his high beams for just an instant to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, and he instantly regretted it.

Dal shrieked a warning call, to let Nick know that he needed to act fast.

"FUCK!"

At his outburst, Rochelle and Coach started yelling to find out what was going on, and Nick could only think of one way to describe the situation, "TANK!"

The conman smashed the brake into the floor of the car, but the car wasn't going to stop fast enough and even if it did that Tank was coming right for them. Nick squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers clenching around the walkie-talkie in his hands, pressing the talk button unintentionally. He could vaguely hear Rochelle and Coach trying to find out what had happen but Dal's shrieking and Ellis' frightened yell were mixed into the sound and Nick couldn't process all of this as fast as it was happening.

The Tank reached out with both his massive hands and grabbed the front end of the SUV, forcing it to a painfully sudden stop. Nick nearly smashed his head into the steering wheel. The metal was burning hot and the scent of sizzling fresh from the Tank's hands digging into the motor was sickening. The windshield abruptly cracked, and then shattered, shards of tinted glass falling into the front seats and all over Nick's lap. His heart skipped a beat when the Tank's beady black eyes fall on him. It leaned forward, nearly losing its balance, and huffed and panted loudly in Nick's face.

The Tank suddenly grabbed the top of the car, reaching its thumb through the windshield and getting a good grip. It then promptly ripped off the front-most end of the car, removing the engine completely and nearly taking Nick with it.

He had to act fast. Nick quickly grabbed his seatbelt, but the Tank noticed the movement. Just as he was getting the buckle undone and falling out of the front of the car, the Tank swung the vehicle to his side and sent it careening over the side of the road.

"NO!" His voice came out without him realizing that he had decided to start yelling. His yelling caught the Tank's attention, and the beast let out a deafening roar. Nick wanted to run over to Ellis and Dal; he wanted to make sure they were okay; he wanted to find them. Were they even alive? Would they be alive much longer?

The Tank swung his fist out at Nick, intending to bat him off the road like a fly. Nick ducked around the Tank's flailing arm and turned on his heel, running away as fast as he could. He had to lead the Tank away from Ellis and Dal; they'd have a better chance if he kept the Tank away from them. If Dal was conscious, he'd get them both out.

_Pneumonia…_

But if Dal wasn't conscious, then Ellis would surely drown.

His chest was aching as his heart beat a fierce, terrified rhythm against his Adam's apple. This Tank was _big_. Nick had seen some pretty big ones before, Tanks so big that he had thought they couldn't _get_ any bigger, but this one took the cake. This one had singlehandedly ripped an SUV in half and then tossed it aside like it was one of Nick's ex-girlfriends.

The rain was falling a bit harder now, and Nick was soaked. His legs were burning and he couldn't see a foot ahead of himself because of the dark. He had no idea how that Tank seemed to know where he was. There was a bright flash of lightning followed closely by a rumble of thunder. The Tank let out another bellow as it lunged forward, reaching for Nick with one massive arm. It missed, and Nick kept running. The Tank bellowed in rage, continuing after Nick.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Nick spotted a Common Infected, and then another, and then another, and then a dozen, and then another dozen… He was running straight towards them. _No, no, NO!_ He cursed out loud, veering to the right. The Tank let out another angry roar, and swung his arm down in front of Nick, preventing him from getting away.

Before he could even turn around and run the other way, the Tank lifted his hand a foot off the ground and slammed Nick into the ground. His head hit the pavement and the air was forced out of his lungs.

He could hear the rushed footsteps of the Infected running straight for him, the grunting, snarling Tank hovering over him. He could hear his ribs cracking and the air as it left him in a sharp hiss. Abruptly, he felt the Tank's meaty fingers close around him and lift him off the ground. He could feel Infected jumping up, clawing at his ankles as they tried to rip him apart. The Tank bellowed again, using his other arm to swat a bunch of the zombified-humans away from his prize.

As the Tank grew more and more annoyed with the Infected, Nick could feel his grip tighten. He wheezed, his one free arm trying in vain to force the Tank to loosen his hold. His brain was already hazy, and his vision was dotted and blurred with pain and depravation of air. His hands and feet were beginning to tingle; the Tank was holding him so tightly he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He _couldn't breathe_. _Oh God I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I don't want to die please God someone else this hurts so much please someone anyone it hurts it hurts it hurts…_

The Tank bellowed again, and for just an instant his grip tightened phenomenally. Nick's eyes were watering, a mixture of adrenalized-terror and unbearable agony coursing through his emotional circuits. He was going to die. Right here, right now, squeezed to death in the hands of a Tank, his legs ripped to shreds by the Infected still trying to reach him. He could feel blood running down his legs, though the sensation was hazy. His limbs were going numb, he couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe _couldn't breathe Dal oh my God Dal I'm sorry I know I promised that I wouldn't let anything happen to me when I wasn't in your sights and I'm sorry for that but I swear to god that I didn't do this on purpose I'm so sorry please take care of Ellis I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…_

Blackness was filling his vision, and it wasn't long before the world was too dark and blurry for him to make out anything that would've made sense. His limbs must've fallen off; he couldn't feel them anymore. He couldn't even feel the rain hitting his face as the storm turned into a loud, torrential downpour. The Tank was still fending off the Infected; Nick could hear it snarling and grunting irritably as the sound of crunching bone and smashing skulls filled the humid air. Then again, the crunching bones might have been his own; he wasn't sure about anything anymore.

A loud, deep kind of sound filled the air; it wasn't a snarl, or a shriek, or any kind of infected noise. No, it sounded more like a siren, or a car horn. He didn't know. Didn't care. He wasn't going to live to tell this particular tale.

The Tank barked a few times, snarling angrily and swinging Nick farther from the direction of the sound. Several of the Infected followed after Nick's dangling legs, though the rest darted towards the apparent horn.

Gun fire came next, shouting, distant yelling. His body was limp in the Tank's grip, and while he could occasionally muster up the strength to take a small breath past the squeezing fingers, it wasn't enough to do more than faintly prolong his consciousness.

Just as he was sure that it was over, as his body began to chill, as his vision turned completely black, and as he felt his lungs finally decide to give up on him, Nick suddenly hit the ground.

The blow from the wet pavement jump started his breathing again, and he found himself lying on his back, spluttering and coughing. The Tank was gone, and he was surrounded by _noise_. The Common Infected were strewn around him, dead, and the rain was still coming down, though not quite as torrentially as it had been earlier. There was a loud thumping against the pavement, but it was dark and he couldn't really see what it was coming from. His vision was still blurry and spotted with uncertainty. He tried to straighten out his thoughts, figure out what had happened, move his head slightly to see what was going on, but his limbs were numb and he couldn't seem to get a signal from his brain to his fingers and toes.

The sound of footsteps alerted him of incoming beings. He still couldn't move, and he was sure he was about to pass out. His everything was wet and cold and he was so tired and so cold and freezing and the rain had soaked him through to the bone and he was so cold so cold so cold.

Someone's hands were on him, fingers against his throat, a hand on his chest. He winced at the contact, unsure of whether it was friendly or not. His teeth were chattering and he was _so cold_.

"Nicholas… Nicho… C'mo… with me…"

Through his bleeding lip and shivering jaw, he managed to choke out, "'s Nick… no' Nic'l's…"

Whoever they were, they shook his shoulder, inciting a wave of pain throughout his chest. He hissed, clenching his teeth in pain. They were shouting around him, calling orders back and forth. Someone… no, several people's hands grabbed him at different spot around his body, and he couldn't help but try to jerk away. He hurt all over; didn't they get that? No don't touch me it hurts go away leave me alone no really I'm fine just go away.

He was moving, suddenly, and he only realized it when the agony erupted across every pore, every nerve, every cell in his body. Some kind of inhuman sound came out of his throat, bursting forth and coupled with chokes cries. God, what was it that was hurting him so much? What was wrong? What was _broken_?

They set him down on something soft, and he continued to shake and tremble. His eyes were squeezed shut as the pain slowly dulled to more of an ache. But it hurt. There was a spot… somewhere on his body, he was so out of it he couldn't figure out where the pain was originating from, but it hurt the worst. It didn't go back to being a dull throb. It just continued to burn and scream and protest the earlier movement.

More hands; someone touching him, and the soft thing that he was on started to move. The road made the ride a little bit rough, but he was so tired, so very, very tired. The soft thing tilted slightly, and he was enveloped in dryness and warmth. He blinked, the blinding lights making his head ache worse than it already did. Someone's chilled fingers touched his chest and his breath left him in a hiss of pain. They were talking, saying something that he couldn't understand about something that he didn't know if he cared about and god he was so tired he should just sleep for a little while and maybe…

_All he could hear was Dal's shrieks, Ellis' terrified cries. The Tank bellowed again, the sound of hot metal twisting and ripping as it was pulled apart by those massive hands. Nick's mouth opened in a silent scream of terror, and the world was suddenly silent. Everything was deadly silent and then the noise was too much and where was he was running running away from that Tank and… and…_

_Dal. Ellis. Dal. Ellis. Dal. Ellis Dal Ellis Dal Ellis Dal Ellis oh my God where are they oh god oh god oh no no no where did they go I don't remember where am I where are they are they okay oh no no no no no no no no no no no…._

He came to suddenly, and thought for just a moment that they had already left. But no, there was still a cold breeze rushing into wherever he was, and the person standing over him was still running their cold fingers across his chest, eying wounds that Nick didn't want to know about.

"Da…" His voice died in his throat, and his eyes widened in horror He choked back a sob _why am I crying god it hurts so bad_ and tried again, "D-Dal… Da… 'nd E… Ell…is… Ellis, Dal, Ellis where… where a…are…"

He was shaking so bad, and his throat was so tight that he had a hard time getting his voice box to function properly. He choked again, squeezing his eyes shut and shuddering. Another wave of pain. The person hovering over him hadn't answered his question. Had he actually asked it? Oh, God, what if they accidentally left Ellis and Dal behind?

"Nicho… Nick, Nick, hey…" The person… their voice had a feminine quality to it that he wasn't sure he recognized. He didn't care. He cracked open his swollen eyes and looked at them. It was a woman. She had taken off her helmet, her pale face screwed up only slightly in worry.

"Hey, stay with me," the world was coming to him clearer now, but he still wasn't sure he was taking in the details properly. The woman touched his face, pinching his cheek just slightly to pull his attention to her.

"They're look…" She trailed off, looking over her shoulder. The sound of rolling wheels, not tires, but wheels, squeaking wheels. Nick managed to make his head turn slightly, and he saw them. The soldiers were wheeling a pair of gurneys, and Nick was sure he recognized one of the militants.

The conversation started again, but Nick buzzed out every sound that came his way, his attention focused entirely on the two gurneys; Dal and Ellis. They were okay, it looked like. Maybe not _okay_, but alive. They were alive. They were both alive. He would've laughed if his chest didn't hurt so much, so Nick just settled for smiling in exhausted relief.

Dal wasn't moving. Ellis, he could see, was stirred slightly. But Dal was so still. Nick's eyes were watering again, and he couldn't help but find a terrible fear growing in his stomach. Dal was _so still._

"D-Dal…" He called uncertainly, his throat still swollen with fear and nausea, "Dal…"

The Hunter was unresponsive.

The woman who had been checking him over turned back to face him, "Its okay," she said, "He's just unconscious. They'll both be fine, I promise."

Nick wasn't sure if he trusted her. It was the fault of the military that he was in this mess in the first place. But what else could he do at this point? He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering sigh. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move. He was sure it was going to hurt to be any form of awake, so he forced his stunned brain to stop trying to catch up with the world, and simply shut down for now.

Dal was going to be fine. He _had_ to be.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hey all! I rewrote this chapter because I absolutely hated the way it came out. So here is Version 2.0, which is much, much better than the original.**

**Dal will be FINE, I promise you. Like I said before, I'm not going to kill off any of my main characters.**

**Sorry for taking such a LONG ASS time to finish this chapter. A lot's been going wrong at my end of the world, but I think I'm feeling better now. At least, that's my deduction based on the fact that I was able to write a good chapter of Something Else. :)**

**Right this second, I'm in Ithaca, NY with my sister. She lives in Ithaca most of the time because she attends college here. **

**Anyway, I actually live 75 miles away from here, in Unadilla. I'm staying with Gina (G-ChanSanKun) until Wednesday, because I'm currently a high school dropout (I will fix that in September) and I have nothing else to do. Also, because I miss her lots when she's away at College.**

**Okay, now that I'm done blabbing my face off, I'm gonna go ahead and post this chapter now. Sorry for talking so much. Ahahaha.**

**No idea when the next chapter will be out, but it WILL be out. Eventually.  
**


	28. Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be Alright

**_A Series of Unfortunate Events_**

**_Part 4_**

**_…_**

"…-can't be in here."

"What do you mean I can't be in here!_?_"

It was surprisingly loud, and rather chilly, wherever he was. He managed to crack open his swollen eyes, and _holy shit it's so bright in here_. He was sure that he recognized Coach and Rochelle arguing valiantly somewhere in the background noise, but he didn't care. _Dal_.

He slowly tilted his head to the right, away from the source of the noise that he was assuming was the door, and spotted another bed. He spotted the Hunter, body still and eyes closed, and Nick felt his heart drop into his stomach. There was some kind of neck-stabilizer wrapped around him, stitches holding a gash on his nose shut.

"I don't care about your stupid 'procedure!"

"Ma'am, you need to leave."

"Kid, we ain't goin' nowhere. Ya' might as well let us in."

Dal's face was ghastly pale, his lips slightly parted and an IV attached to his arm. How they had managed to get Dal undressed was beyond Nick's current comprehension. Nick's eyes were watering and they _hurt_, a terrible kind of stinging pain that he knew would start a waterfall if he didn't get it under control.

"I'm afraid I _can't_ do that right now. You should've been informed that we would let you know when you can see them."

"Nick is my _husband_, and if you don't let me in _right this second-…_!"

"Whether he's your husband or not, I _can't_ let you in here!"

Nick was going to call out to the Hunter when his voice suddenly caught in his throat. His eyes widened, horror settling in his chest and numbing out the rest of the world. Dal had a breathing tube down his throat. A breathing tube. A _breathing tube_. Dal couldn't breathe? No, no, no, that couldn't be right. No, Dal was fine. Why did they have a tube down his throat? What happened while he was asleep? Why was he so _still_ and and and oh god what's wrong with him Dal always wakes up first so why… why is he…?

He opened his mouth again, a soft sound coming out. The other apparent inhabitants of the room didn't hear him. They continued to fight. They continued to shout.

"You two need to leave," another voice, a new person, definitely another man, likely an armed militant, "It's not safe for you to be in here right now. This is for their health and yours."

"What do you _our_ health!_?_" Rochelle shrieked, "All five of us have been traveling together for _months_! _MONTHS!_ Don't you dare tell me that its _dangerous_ for us to be in here, because its _not_!"

"This isn't about whether or not you'll get infected or whatever you think we're talking about, ma'am this-…!"

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!"

"Let her go, Jake!"

This jus' ain't right! Ro, c'mere!"

"Dal!" Nick's voice rose above the other's, startling everyone into silence, "Dal!_?_ Dal, wake up! Wake up!"

"Nick…" Rochelle shoved the doctor-lady out of her way, slipping out of Jake's grip and grabbing Nick's hand. He ignored her, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Nick, are-…"

"Dal! Dal, please, wake up! Hey!" He braced himself against his elbows and sat up, his head swimming with dizziness. Every fiber in his body was trembling and his forearm was on fire and he couldn't see straight but Dal was so much worse off Dal was still and intubated and stitched up and broken _broken_ **_broken _**it didn't matter how much pain Nick was in what was wrong with _Dal_!_?_

"Nick," the doctor-lady pushed Rochelle away, inciting an enraged snarl of curses. Whoever this strange woman was, she grabbed Nick's shoulders and pushed him back to the bed, "Nick, are you listening?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no…" Nick choked out, shoving her hands away as he continued to try and get up _get to Dal_, "What's wrong with him, why is he… why…?"

The world was beginning to fade into a loud, static haze. Someone's hand was pressed over his mouth, forcing him to inhale through his nose. They grabbed his head and turned his attention away from Dal. He fought back _hard_, trying to turn and sit up and find his Hunter _his Hunter **his Hunter**_.

They were talking but he couldn't hear them. The hand came away from his mouth and his vision was suddenly filled with Rochelle's face. She was crying, but not from terror or misery. Those were frustrated tears, and she covered his eyes, only inciting further struggle. Something was burning against his thigh and he didn't know what it was but it _hurt_ and he found himself yelling and cursed as his muscles turned to jelly and _god damn it what's going on?_!

He took in a shuddering breath as the world began to fade away. Drugs. They had _drugged_ him.

He was injured and weak; had he really been putting up that much of a fight?

_Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal Dal…_

…

When he woke up again, Rochelle and Coach were in his immediate line of vision. The doctor-lady was standing by the foot of his bed, facing towards the door and muttering to someone he was sure he would properly remember when his brain wasn't muddled with concussion and drugs.

"Dal," he croaked, his first thoughts coming out almost immediately, "What's… wrong with… Dal…?"

Rochelle was squeezing his hand, trying to keep him focused on the world and not his worries, "Nick, listen to me," she spoke softly, her familiar, loving voice ever so soothing. His eyes were watering again as the memory of Dal's weak, fragile-looking face came to the forefront of his mind. Dal was so strong, and so young; how was it even possible for him to look like that?

"Nick, sweetie?" Rochelle coaxed, bringing him back again, "C'mon sweetie, listen to me, okay?"

_Nick is my** husband!**_

"Listen, Nick," Rochelle squeezed his hand a little tighter, and he managed to focus his gaze on her, "Dal is fine, okay?"

"Wh-why is he…?"

"He strained his neck in the crash; that's what the collar is for," she explained slowly, to make sure that he heard her. "The IV is giving him fluids and sugars because he's dehydrated and malnourished, okay?"

"The… tube…?"

"He woke up earlier," her voice was just as calm as before, despite the tears he could see at the corners of her eyes, "And he freaked out when he saw you. They had to sedate him pretty heavily to make him calm down… Renee, the um… physician here, had to put a tube down his throat because the sedation was doing something to his breathing."

Nick slowly managed to nod his head, "How's… Ellis?"

Something flickered across Rochelle's brown eyes, and she nibbled on her lip for a moment before she replied, "He's in ICU right now," at Nick's horrified expression, she quickly continued, "He's okay, Nick. They said he'll live and be well, but he was in pretty bad shape when he got here. He should be out of the ICU tomorrow morning."

"His immune system," Renee spoke up, standing closer to the foot of his bed now and watching his face carefully, "Because of the pneumonia, he was extremely weak. We put him in the ICU as a precaution incase his body was weak enough to contract the Green Flu."

Nick nodded mutely, and Renee continued, "I took that tube out of Dallas' throat a little while ago, and he should be waking up soon. I need you three to make sure that he doesn't get up; he might make his injuries worse."

Rochelle and Coach didn't look at her, but they both nodded agreeably. Understanding that she wasn't on the best of terms with them at the moment, Renee sighed and excused herself from the room. Nick found himself staring at Rochelle – _Nick is my **husband!**_ – and found a strange, long-lost friend poking around in his chest.

A slight smile graced his features. A tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Husband?" He managed to insert a teasing kind of tone into his hoarse voice, and he chuckled as Rochelle's face turned bright, flaming red.

"I-I was just… trying to get her to let us in!"

It hurt a lot, but Nick couldn't hold back the laugh. He heard a soft whimper, and turned to look over at Dal. The Hunter was stirring, and Nick watched his bright green eyes slowly open. Dal turned his head to look over at Nick, who only smiled back reassuringly. Coach stood up and walked over to Dal's bedside. The Hunter's eyes were watering profusely as he took in Nick more-or-less _okay_ appearance.

"He's okay, Dal." He said soothingly, and the floodgates opened. Tears were cascading down Dal's scarred cheeks. The crying turned into a relieved, frightened kind of wail. Coach took his hand and gently squeezed it.

"Everybody's gonna be fine, kid."

* * *

**A/N**

**Well said, Coach. Well said.**

**Sad chapter is sad. Short, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I'm going to skip ahead a little tiny ways, get to a point where Nick and Dal and Ellis are functional enough to be walking around.**

**Also, I am not going to even try to be ashamed at the fact that Renee is myself. Hahaha. You probably guessed that, because my username is KRenee. Soon to come: **

**Orthopedic Surgeon Ann (AKA G-ChanSanKun/Regina Ann)  
**

**Neurologist/Geneticist Paige (AKA Natalie Paige -Insert Last Name Here-)**

**Natalie is mah BFF. We've been friends since I was like... seven. Or something along those lines. Anyway, that is unrelated. No guarantees on when the next chapter will be out, but it will be out. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe in two months. You'll have to hang on to your subscription and wait.**

**I miss getting reviews from you guys. They're very motivating when I get them. So you should comment more often. Bahaha.**


	29. CoDependency

**_A Series of Unfortunate Events  
_**

**_Part 5  
_**

**_…_**

"C'mon," she muttered, "I'm pressing on a _really bad_ bruise here, how does this not hurt?" Renee was tapping Dal's abdomen as she searched for any point tender locations. Dal was completely non-reactive to anything, and it was making the testing difficult.

"You really can't trust him for a reaction," Nick said, scratching his forearm around the casting for the break he hadn't known about until the previous day, "His pain tolerance is ridiculous."

She chuckled. While Rochelle and Coach still didn't really trust her, Nick was thankful that Renee was keeping Dal's presence as an infected under wraps. Only two of the military personnel knew about him, a set of twins named Jake and Jared.

Nick hadn't really believed that Jared was the same man that he had met in New Jersey alongside the now-deceased Mike the Confident, but he was thankful that there was someone he knew he could trust hanging around. And although Nick was still suspicious about the scars that he had seen on the young soldier, he had no proof to say that Jared had probably been tortured for information about Dal's location, which would've explained how the military found them.

Either way, Nick wasn't going to dwell on it.

"I guess," Renee thought aloud, "if it's not painful enough for him to be _really_ hurting, then maybe there's nothing really bad going on in there."

Dal blinked, looking confused. Renee only chuckled, "Alright, on with the physical. Stand up."

The Hunter seemed to hesitate for a moment, but he eventually swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped to the floor. Nick watched as he leaned heavily to the left, obviously favoring his right leg. His ankle was extremely swollen, and anyone who paid any attention could see that Renee had noticed his awkward posture.

"Okay, I'll make this quick," she said, leading him over to a scale. "Stand here… and correct your posture."

Once again, the Hunter's expression was nothing short of confused. Nick snorted, "He doesn't know what that means. You'll have to show him."

Renee looked over at the conman for a brief moment before nodding. She stepped behind Dal, placed two firm hands on his naval and pressed his body against her. Dal was unsurprisingly unimpressed by this, which Nick thought was utterly hilarious.

"Now, hold that pose," Dal stiffened, holding himself in that position as he stood on the scale. Renee fiddled with it for a moment tilting her head back and forth and humming something under her breath.

"Five foot ten and… a hundred and thirty-five pounds? That _can't_ be right…"

"It's hard to have a well-balanced diet when everything's gone bad. Every once in a while we find miraculously fresh milk, or eggs that haven't hatched, but not very often," Nick clarified, "It's no surprise that he's ridiculously thin."

Renee nodded, "Well, if he's got enough energy to still be up and about, then I suppose its okay. From now on, just make sure he's taking in plenty of fluids."

Nick nodded silently, watching as Dal got back on his bed. While the Hunter's legs were dangling off the edge of the bed, Renee got down on one knee and carefully lifted his right ankle to examine it. Nick watched his Hunter's jaw tighten; he could deny it all he wanted, but his ankle had obviously started to be extremely painful.

"Eek," Renee muttered, "This doesn't feel good… I don't know what you did, but it doesn't feel good."

She pressed slightly on one of the more pronounced lumps his ankle with her thumb, inciting a loud yelp from Dal, who promptly wrenched his foot away and gritted his teeth to hold back any further noise. It was surprising to see the Hunter, who never really seemed to notice pain, react so violently to something.

"Yea, something's very wrong with your leg," Renee concluded, "I'm going to assume that you'll need corrective surgery on that."

"If it'll fix his leg," Nick said, his eyes holding an unreadable emotion, "Then go for it."

Renee had managed to coax Dal into giving her back his leg, and she gingerly ran her fingers over it, "I'm going to let my sister know that she needs to come down here and have a look at your foot, okay? Don't worry, I've got an inner circle."

Nick smiled appreciatively, "Thanks for that." Renee smiled and nodded.

"One more thing; I have another sister, April, and she's a geneticist. She knows about all of you, and she wants to take a blood sample from Dal for medical purposes." At the look on Nick's face, Renee quickly added, "She won't take all his blood or cut him open; she just wants to have a look at his DNA and maybe take an MRI. She's been working on finding a cure, and when she heard about someone who had it but didn't develop the violent symptoms, she wanted to know why."

Nick furrowed his brow, "How many people know about Dal, exactly?"

"Other than Jake and Jared, there's me and my two sisters – Ann and April, and then there's my best friend Paige, and I've known her since we were like, four. That's it. I know you want to keep Dal way, way, way undercover, but it's good to make sure that I'm not the only doctor who's able to treat him. I'm a trauma surgeon and a damn good physician, but I'm no orthopedic."

Nick looked at Dal, "What do you think about helping to find a cure?"

Dal blinked, obviously unsure about what Nick meant. Nevertheless, he shrugged, a look of _I don't really care_ written all over his face. Nick nodded approvingly.

"Well, if he doesn't mind, then I don't mind. How much blood are we talking?"

Renee tilted her head back and forth, "I don't _know_ how much, but it shouldn't be much… a few vials maybe, but it wouldn't be enough to make him faint or anything." She replied, smiling reassuringly, "I'll go and let April know that she's got the okay for blood tests, and I'll tell Ann to come down here and look at Dal's ankle."

Nick nodded, "Thanks." Renee smiled at him before walking out the door to the hallways. She had moved them to a bigger room, one with four beds and plenty of chairs, a thoughtful gesture after realizing how large their party was.

As Renee had promised, only about twenty minutes later, another lady-doctor entered the room, introducing herself as Ann. She was practically a polar opposite of Renee, at least in appearances. She was a light tan, and her hair was dyed a lighter, honey brown, much unlike Renee, who appeared to have black hair and was quite pale. Though they had such obvious differences between them, it was very easy to tell they were sisters, even without the two of them being in the room together. Their mannerisms were _very_ similar.

"Alright, let's see what you got here," Ann took a seat on a rolling stool, moving to sit in front of Dal's feet. Staring at them intensely, she spoke up. "Tell me what happened."

Dal blinked, working his jaw for a moment before looking over at Nick's bed for help. The conman nodded and spoke up, "He originally hurt it about a month and a half ago. We splinted it, though that didn't last very long, because this is Dal we're talking about. Anyway, he couldn't walk on it for a little while, but it got better. Just recently, he jumped out of a helicopter while carrying me and Ellis… must've been a two-story drop. He was able to walk at first, but I left him alone with Ellis for a couple of hours to get a car in a nearby town and by the time I got back, he could barely put any weight on it. The pain's been getting steadily worse ever since."

Ann nodded, glancing directly up at Dal. "Nod for yes, and shake your head for no," she instructed, "Do you remember hearing or feeling a pop, snap, or crack during either of these falls?"

Dal blinked, tilting his head towards his ankle. They could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to remember. After a moment, he slowly nodded, and then held up a hand with three fingers, an obvious gesture that he had felt or heard some kind of pop, snap, or crack during all three of the falls - one of which Nick apparently didn't know about. The conman frowned slightly, suspicion

Her brows furrowed. "Can you show me – with your good ankle – how your foot was when you landed?"

Dal glanced at his left foot, tilting his head slightly as he showed her how he had landed the first time. The second time, apparently, had been on a slope and his landing had been so far wrong that he had tumbled over himself and dropped both people he'd been carrying. The third time, however, he showed how he had landed completely flat-footed, with no shock absorption at the ankle.

"Geez, it's a wonder you didn't snap your tibia," she muttered, scooting closer and looking over the two different feet. "Gross swelling on both the medial and lateral aspects of the ankle, no obvious deformities," she noted aloud as she wrote up a mental diagnostic list. "You can't move your foot at _all_, can you?"

Dal blinked, looking down at his leg for a moment before returning his attention to Ann and nodding to agree with what she had said.

Finally, she placed her hands on the injured foot, prodding here any there. "Tell me if any of this hurts," she murmured, focused on locating any deformity. When she pressed in between the ankle bones, Dal yelped loudly, wrenching his entire leg back and out of her grasp with wide eyes.

She looked startled at the outburst, but not scared. "That really hurt you, huh," she deadpanned, a look of concern graving her features. "You're way too point tender for it to simply be some strain."

Ann grabbed her pager, fumbling with it for a moment before a triumphant grin graced her features. "Renee should be getting here within a couple of minutes." She regarded the occupants of the room. "There are a few things I want to differentiate from, but with him being that tender, I don't want to perform any special tests. There are several things this could be, and none of them are all that good. Long story short; he's going to be out of commission for a while. A very long while. Anywhere from 2-6 months, actually."

Dal visibly blanched as the door opened and Renee walked in, "Hey, what's up?"

"Does our machinery work?"

Renee blinked, "Yea, it does. What, did you not know that?"

"Shut up," Ann calmly returned, "I need to give this kid an X-ray and a CAT-scan for his ankle."

"I figured you would want to do that, so I book the labs for like, three hours. April wanted to give him an MRI too, among a couple of other things."

Ann rolled her eyes, "Whatever works."

"What? I was trying to be helpful."

"Yea, yea, yea."

Renee sighed irritably, "Whatever, Ann."

Nick cleared his throat semi-quietly, bringing the sisters out of their argument immediately, "Are you going to take him right now, or…?"

"Right now," Ann replied as she walked out of the room, "I'm going to run down the hall and get a wheelchair. Renee, page Ann and Paige; they're gonna wanna be a part of these scans."

"Yes, _ma'am_." Renee muttered under her breath as she pulled out her pager and sent the notice. A few seconds later, Ann came back into the room with the wheelchair. The two girls then collaborated a two-woman hold and got Dal situated in the seat.

"How long with these tests take?" Nick suddenly asked, watching as Dal squirmed while Renee combed his hair with her fingers.

"Well, MRIs take about an hour. The other tests are pretty fast, I suppose. I'm not expecting to have him more than an hour and half or so." Ann replied. Renee hummed in agreement and leaned back to admire her work. The Hunter looked more presentable than he had before, at the very least. Ann grabbed a blanket off the bed and tucked it around Dal's shoulders, instructing him to hide his hands with the white cloth.

The two sisters spared Nick a brief, reassuring glance before they left, speeding down the halls as surreptitiously as possible.

The conman stared after them, ignoring the sudden ache in his stomach. He had grown attached to Dal in a weird co-dependent kind of way. As of late, he had found that he was hit with discomfort and worry and paranoia when Dal was out of his line of vision.

Ridiculous.

Pathetic.

He sometimes amazed himself at how self-condescending he could be. It wasn't like it was his fault that Dal was a stupid kid who needed to be protected and taken care of.

* * *

**A/N**

**Because I'm just so cool, I definitely inserted myself (Renee), my sister (Ann), my mom (April), and my best friend (Paige).**

**I used middle names for everyone (Kimberly Renee, Regina Ann, Natalie Paige) except my mom, because we share the same middle name. Instead, my mom is named after her birth month. I'm such a fricken loser. Hahaha**

**This is still part of the Unfortunate Events saga, by the way. Every Aftermath that starts with "A Series of" is part of the Unfortunate Events saga. Just so that you know.**

**WOW I TOOK FOREVER TO UPDATE BY THE WAY. Yea I'm sorry that I've been so terribly and incredibly lame about updating my shit I'm having trouble functioning at the moment and me and my sister have been writing in collaborative stories and I'm just a lame ass I'm sorry.**

**Okay well. That's all I guess. So like... yea. I still miss getting comments from you guys. I know it's a lot to ask for considering how lame I am, but I'm asking anyway because shut up. :)**

**Coming up next: The condition of Dal's ankle, surgical procedures - or as much as I'm willing to write about anyway, a sour reunion and maybe also someone coming back that we didn't think mattered to the story!**

**EDIT: Changed the Aftermath title back to A Series of Unfortunate Events. Because I'm tre lame.**


	30. Failed Attempt At A Sweet Reunion

**_A Series of Unfortunate Events_**

**_Part 6_**

**_…_**

Four days later, Dal's ankle was wrapped up tightly in a cast. He wasn't supposed to walk on the cast, and the Hunter had already expressed how painful it was to be standing on it – something that Renee had been trying to unsuccessfully manage with painkillers – but Nick still found himself throwing the brat into bed rather regularly.

Ellis was no longer in danger of sudden death, but the physicians in charge of their little ground had already decided that they didn't want Ellis around Dal until his immune system didn't need to be fighting or weakened. Coach spent a lot of time with Ellis, and Rochelle often when to join them. Nick didn't mind. He was stressed out, and while he wasn't entirely sure why, he was sure it had something to do with Dal not be in any kind of fighting condition.

If something happened – anything really – they'd be in a lot of danger. Nick didn't have any weapons, and Dal wasn't able to fight. So if any infected got in, they'd be thoroughly screwed, to say the least.

Lucky, his paranoia was just paranoia. Nothing had happened that would suggest that the place wasn't a fortress of sorts. Sure, he didn't trust the military in any way, shape, manner or form, but he would at least give them credit for keeping the hospital safe.

Nick had thought that there would have been more people in the hospital, but there weren't. There was an entire platoon deployed there, along with maybe two groups of survivors. There were four other doctors besides Renee, Paige, Ann, and April, though Nick didn't know any of their names.

From what he'd overheard, one of the groups of survivors was a small family of carriers – a mother, father, and their daughter. Nick had yet to run into them either, though he'd asked Renee about them.

Apparently, while the military had managed to wipe out almost all the carriers, April had insisted that this particular family be spared. If she was going to find a cure, then she needed to find out why their bodies carried the virus but didn't succumb to it. If she could combine that information with those who were totally immune, she'd be able to find a vaccine. Or something along those lines… probably. Renee had tried to explain it, but Nick had only been half-listening as he occasionally snapped at Dal to stop picking at his cast.

The conman let out a barely audible sigh and lifted his gaze from the floor. He was sitting in a chair besides Dal, and they had been having a… conversation, of sorts. Dal had been complaining endlessly about his ankle, how badly it hurt, and how it was itchy and sore and irritating and he hated the cast and he hated the pain and he wasn't used to it hurting like this Nick what's wrong with my leg it hurts so bad and I feel sick and my head hurts and…

Nick stared at his Hunter, taking in every detail of his tired expression. Dal was getting sick, he was reasonably sure. He hadn't yet told Renee, but he also hadn't seen her yet today. It was strange, because she normally stopped by rather early to see how her patients where doing.

Perhaps she was operating on someone else.

Dal's eyes were half-lidded, his lips slightly parted as he stared off into the middle distance. He looked paler than usual, though it was only slight. His face was so scarred, and his lips chapped and torn up from months of dryness and dehydrated and scratching and chewing. He looked like he was vegetating, and it made Nick's stomach plummet. The last time he'd seen Dal like this, he'd thought the kid was going to die.

He sighed, reached up a hand and pressing it to the boy's forehead. Dal flinched, startled by the unexpected contact, but Nick didn't move his hand. The Hunter didn't have a fever. That was good; perhaps he was just tired. Nick pulled his hand back and thought about the past couple of days, pulling forth every memory of every movement and expressed behavior that he'd seen from the Hunter. Dal had been a bit sluggish, tired. He had been sleeping through the night – something he never did. Dal usually didn't sleep more than four or five hours a night, and lately he'd been sleeping more like eight and nine hours a night, and then another hour or so spread throughout the day.

Dal was watching him, looking confused. Nick frowned at him.

"How do you feel?" He knew that Dal wasn't going to suddenly start talking and explain in detail how he felt. But if he could figure out what exactly was going on with his Hunter's body, then maybe he could take care of it before it got worse. The boy had never been all that attuned to his body, though, so Nick wasn't sure if he'd even be able to describe it if something _was_ wrong.

Dal sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled on it, and Nick promptly told him to stop. He received an exasperated sigh, which turned into a tired, hoarse kind of laugh that alarmed Nick. His voice was quiet and came out even more raspy than when he was screaming. He observed carefully as Dal swallowed hard, a slight expression of pain crossing his features.

"Does your throat hurt?" He asked slowly. Dal blinked, and Nick indicated his throat. Nod.

Strep throat? Minor bacterial infection? Tonsillitis? Irritation due to allergies? Soreness due to healing of previous damage from screaming all the time? Lymph nodes inflamed and causing the rest of the throat to be inflamed?

He frowned, and Dal made a soft sound to catch his attention. He looked up again as the Hunter pointed to his stomach, and then his knees and elbows, and then his neck and back, and then, with emphasis, his leg. He was fairly alarmed by the amount of pain that Dal was in, but judging by the way he was acting, it couldn't have been too bad.

"How bad does it hurt?" Dal gave him the "not too bad" hand signal, but then pointed at his leg and made the "really fucking bad" signal. Nick nodded mutely. He needed to fetch Renee and see if she could give the Hunter anything stronger for pain management, and maybe give him a quick checkup.

There was a knock at the door, and he turned around to face April, and three people standing behind her. He recognized them as the apparently carriers that she had saved from death and destruction at the hands of the military.

"Can I help you?" He asked, standing up and eying them with slight suspicion.

April walked across the room, pausing the foot of Dal's bed. The family followed her in, looking fairly nervous. Nick gave April a _look_ that demanded a speedy explanation for blowing Dal's cover.

"You wanted me to find out if Dallas had any family in the area," she explained almost apologetically, "This is Eva and her husband, Ralph, and their eldest daughter, Callie."

The color promptly drained from Nick's face. They looked hopeful, like they'd been waiting their whole lives for this. This was bad; this was very, very bad.

He turned to Dal, who was staring at the _strangers_ standing by the foot of his bed, confusion all over his face.

Callie was the one who stepped forward first, "Dallas…" she greeted, a strained smile on her face, "Are you… okay?"

Dal was beginning to look stricken as he stared at her, trying to _think_, probably trying to remember who she was exactly and whether or not she mattered in his life. Nick touched his shoulder, and the Hunter looked up at him, looking slightly mortified. There was a pause as Nick and Dal stared into each other's eyes, static flying between them. April was watching him with wide eyes; this was probably pretty amazing to actually watch.

What do I do I can't talk you know that who are they exactly I don't remember them what do I do I don't know what to do Nick help me I don't know what I should do I don't remember them Nick, Nick, what do I do? What do I do_!_?

Should I tell them that you don't remember them? Should I tell them you're infected? I can talk for you, Dal, but I won't tell you what to say.

I don't want to tell them that I don't remember they'll be upset and I don't like it when you people get upset it makes my stomach hurt and I don't know what to do!

They'll be more upset if I don't tell them the truth, you know.

But… but…

Your argument is invalid.

As he broke eye contact, Dal let out an indignant growl. Nick couldn't help but smile at the sound, though he saw the way Dal's alleged family shrank back at the noise.

"Who are you, anyway? And what's wrong with my son?" Ralph suddenly asked, staring at Dal as if he was an alien. Nick glanced at the Hunter one last time before shrugging in resignation and turning back to the family.

"I'm Nick," he stated, "I met Dal-…"

"Dallas," Eva corrected, "He doesn't like to be called Dal."

Nick shook his head, "Let me say this, alright? We can fight after." He took a deep breath and continued, unable to comprehend how he was able to maintain his patience, "I met Dal in Mississippi, in the swamps. He saved me a couple of times and then decided on his own that he was going to follow me around. We've been together ever since."

"What's wrong with my son?" Ralph was beginning to sound frustrated, and Nick could see the way that Eva and Callie abruptly shrank back. April was giving him a warning look, perhaps telling him not to blow Dal's cover. But he couldn't just lie to the kid's _family_, and there was something that he wasn't to be sure of anyway. He'd tell the truth, and he'd make his deductions, and he'd go from there.

"Dal's infected with the Green Flu, and it manifested as the Hunter mutation," It took a surprising amount of effort to force himself to say that; "He doesn't remember you at all."

Ralph's eyes were wide for only a moment before his gaze turned murderous, "You're lying," he ground out, "Why the hell would you say something like that? We're his _family_!"

"I'm not lying," Nick retorted, "Why would I lie about something like-…" Ralph approached suddenly, shoving Nick away from Dal and grabbing the kid's shoulders, shaking him rather harshly. Dal let out a frightened yelp, his eyes widened as Ralph stared into his eyes.

"Ralph, don't _hurt_ him, he-…"

"Shut up, Eva!" He snapped at his wife, only sparing her a glance before turning back to Dal, "Dallas, I know we've had our rough spots, but that doesn't make it okay to _lie._ You know how we feel about _lying_ in our household. I don't know what this bastard's been telling you, but you are _my_ son, and I will not tolerate this behavior." Dal was stiff in Ralph's grip, and the man only shook him harder, "Say something, Dallas!" Nick saw him pull back his hand and he moved without thinking, grabbing the back of Ralph's shirt and forcing him away from Dal. Callie and Eva were cowering in the back corner of the room, inching closer to the door.

Ralph turned on him in an instant, and Nick had a rather sudden recollection of his father. The man tackled Nick to the ground, swinging his fist into his face. April was yelling something, Eva and Callie were whimpering and crying in the corner.

But that wasn't what Nick heard; no, he heard a single, enraged shriek, and the weight on his hips disappeared. He barely had time to regain his bearings before he saw Dal, pinning Ralph to the ground and pulling back his arms to start tearing his own father limb from limb.

"DAL!" He heard April yelling something, but that didn't matter. He grabbed Dal, hooking his arms and dragging him away until his back hit the wall. Dal was thrashing, snarling wordlessly in a fury. Nick quickly pressed his hand over the Hunter's mouth, ignoring the claws that were digging into his arms as he tried to break free.

Ralph was staring at his son with a look somewhere between disgust and horror. Nick turned abruptly, throwing Dal back onto his bed and slapping him across the face. The Hunter snapped out of it immediately, one clawed hand reaching up to touch the steadily reddening mark on his face. He looked up at Nick, his eyes watering as he noticed the deep cuts he'd made.

The tears started to fall, and Nick let out an irritated sigh as Dal started to wail. He touched the Hunter's shoulder, and was dragged into a tight, miserable hug of apology.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell is the matter with you lately," Nick muttered, "One minute you're in a world of pain and the next you're backing me up like usual."

Dal squeezed him tighter, his wailing turning into hysterical, muffled cries. Nick pried his hands away, watching his wide eyes for a moment before an unsettling sense of foreboding settled in.

"Dal?" The Hunter was choking on his sobs, his entire body beginning to shake and tremble uncontrollably. Comprehension dawned on Nick's face as Dal started to salivate.

"A-…" his voice caught in his throat as he pushed Dal back onto the bed and rolled him onto his side, "He's having a seizure, April!" The woman was already on it, calling Jared and Jake to throw out "this disruptive family" and pulling a syringe and vial of something clear out of the nearly cupboards. Blood was trickling out of Dal's mouth – he was biting his tongue. Nick cursed, shoving his fist into the boy's mouth and gritting his teeth as Dal bit down. He's rather have his hand broken than let Dal bite off his own tongue.

April jabbed him in the thigh with the needle, injecting whatever into him. After nearly three minutes, he finally started to calm down, the tremors becoming nothing more than minor muscle spasms. Nick glanced at April, and she gave him the okay to roll the kid back onto his back. He pulled his hand out of Dal's mouth, grabbing a couple of tissues out of the tissue box and wiping the blood off of Dal's chin and away from the corners of his mouth. April pried his mouth open and took a look down his throat, checking his pulse, checked his breathing.

She sat around with them for several minutes, occasionally checking Dal's pulse and breathing, just to make sure he was really alright. Another needle came out, this time with a couple of empty vials for drawing blood.

"I need to figure out what's going on here," she muttered, sliding the needle into one of Dal's pronounced veins, "He's never had a seizure before, right?"

"Never," Nick agreed, his voice wavering slightly. That had been scary. Very scary. As he watched the tubes fills up with his Hunter's blood, his stomach clenched in worry. What if something was terribly wrong with Dal? Brain tumor? He didn't know what else could cause a sudden onset of epileptic symptoms.

He brushed Dal's dirty, greasy hair out of his face, his eyes brimming with anxiety. Dal's eyes slowly cracked open, a soft whimper coming out of his throat. He stared at Nick, his green eyes looking less bright compared to usual. Nick grabbed the Hunter's clawed hand, squeezing gently as a comforting gesture, although he wasn't sure if he was comforting himself or Dal.

Dal hummed tiredly, and Nick let out a shaky sigh, "You're okay," he muttered, sitting down and staring at Dal's scarred, calloused hand, "You're okay."

Though he wasn't sure if he was reassuring himself or Dal.

* * *

**A/N**

**omfg Dal whats wrong with you this time jeez**

**Yes, I changed the Aftermath title back to A Series of Unfortunate Events. I changed that in the previous chapter too, because it just seemed like it'd be a better idea to leave it as it. Because this really is just a series of unfortunate events. It really, really is.**

**Please note that ever-strange resemblance between Ralph and Nick's Dad. Perhaps they were poker buddies and spent their nights drinking beer together and discussing child abuse techniques and things. I enjoyed writing Dal attacking his dad. hahaha.**

**I also love how Nick thinks of Dal as "his Hunter." :)**

**Okay, that's all from me. It's 1:51 AM in New York right now, and I am just beginning to show signs of maybe becoming tired. Maybe I'll get some sleep tonight. Hurrdurr. I literally started this chapter and finished in within the past hour.  
**


	31. Coming Soon to a Website Near You

**This is an update on the current status _Something Else_, NOT a new chapter adding to the storyline. I recommend you read it anyway, as it contains information on the soon-to-come revamp of _Something Else._**

**Thank you for your patience.**

**.**

I have plans to **REWRITE **_Something Else_. I'm leaving the original version up for ego fodder purposes (aww shucks you guys even like this shoddy piece of butt that I wrote aww), and also because I know you guys would probably be pretty upset if I took it down. I know, I know, I stopped writing in the middle of an Aftermath series, and that Aftermath will never be finished, but I can promise you at any rate that (hopefully) the rewrite will be a better story. I reread it recently, and decided that I more or less liked everything up to the point when I started writing Nick losing his mind.

I was reading through it and I decided that I do not have the slightest idea why I decided to do that, and I hate it, and I'm going to remove that entirely and not have him go crazy. Scott is probably not going to appear either, and Nick isn't going to be some horrendous abuse case like I had him originally.

Dal is also going to get a mild-to-moderate personality revamp. I don't like how I have him behaving like he's seven and slightly autistic. Yea, I know, it's cute that way, but I don't like it. Dal isn't stupid or autistic. He's a Hunter. He's like, 16 years old, probably rode a motorcycle before the Infection hit. He's a strategic thinker; I'll bet he played some kind of strategy game. Maybe he played soccer and chess when he wasn't running up walls for fun.

Sure, the Infection blew out a couple sectors of his brain (I'm going to have to do some research into that), but it didn't leave him with mental handicaps. I mean, come on, he's a _Hunter_. He stalks his prey, he hunts, he plans and plots things out long term. He's not childish. He's reckless. There is a phenomenal difference between those two things. He's still going to do things like jump on Tanks and leap into the middle of a Horde, but not because he's stupid. He's 16. He's immortal. I mean, he survived getting the infection. He's a pro at this surviving thing. Duh.

That's the gist of the personality revamp. He's still going to be Dal, and he'll probably still get a little giddy when he receives some form of praise.

Plotwise, I'm probably going to keep everything up until Nick gets on the boat, but I will do some major editing to the writing itself. Get rid of those typos, damage-repair Dal's behavior, slow down the speed at which he warms up to Dal, things like that. I'll also see about lowering the number of Tanks they encounter. I feel like I have them running into a Tank every five minutes for the sake of "plot development" and that right there is bad craftsmanship.

Also what is up with them never encountering a Witch like seriously KRenee what the hell

If you have any questions about the rewrite, please feel free to send me a PM. Do not worry about asking a stupid question, or "bothering" me. I have stupid amounts of time on my hands at this point in my life. Receiving PMs from any of you is a joy to me.

My goal is to start editing and writing tonight, but I can't say how long it'll be before I post the first chapter. It's going to be a completely new story addition, but since I don't expect ALL of you to be following me, I'm going to post another chapter to Something Else (right here) to tell you that I've created the new story. I'll put in the name of the new version as well as a full summary so you don't get lost looking for it.

Thanks for all your support guys, and sorry for dropping this and then taking it back up in this manner. I kind of feel bad, but I really hope you'll like the new version just as much (if not more) than the original version.

Thanks for reading!

- KRenee


	32. Now On Fanfiction dot Net

**This is an update on the current status _Something Else_, NOT a new chapter adding to the storyline. I recommend you read it anyway, as it contains information on the soon-to-come revamp of _Something Else._**

**Thank you for your patience.**

**.**

First chapter of the rewrite has been finished and will be posted within the next half hour or less.

.

**Title**: Something New

**Fandom**: Left 4 Dead 2

**Characters**: Nick & Hunter

**Rating**: T for language and violence/gore

**Genre**: Adventure/Friendship

**Full Summary**: Nick had expected to die the moment he realized he'd fallen out of the chopper. He didn't though. Apparently, he was caught in midair by some little brat named "Dal." That would've been a good thing if Dal wasn't a Hunter. It would've been an even better thing if Dal would _leave him alone._ Apparently, "go away" is too much to ask for in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

.

Once again, thanks for your support and stuff. Dal isn't going to be introduced until the second chapter, but I intend to start working on that as soon as I post the story up here. Lets see how many chapters I can pump out before I hit writer's block.


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